^Somerset  Mau 


THE    MAGICIAN 

W.  SOMERSET  MAUGHAM 


THE  MAGICIAN 


BY  W.  SOMERSET  MAUGHAM 

OF  HUMAN  BONDAGE 
THE   MOON  AND   SIXPENCE 
THE  TREMBLING  OF  A  LEAF 
MRS.     CRADDOCK 
THE    EXPLORER 
THE   MAGICIAN 

NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


THE  MAGICIAN 


BY 
W.  SOMERSET  MAUGHAM 

AUTHOR  OF 

"OF  HUMAN  BONDAGE,"  "THE  MOON  AND  SIXPENCE," 
"THE  TREMBLING  OF  A  LEAF,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


THE  MAGICIAN 


COPYRIGHT,   1908, 
BY   DUFPIELD   &   CO. 


LOAN  STACK 


d^.Tu. 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OP  AMERICA 


THE  MAGICIAN 


264 


THE    MAGICIAN 


Chapter  I 

ARTHUR  BURDON  and  Dr.  Porhoet  walked  in 
silence.  They  had  lunched  at  a  restaurant  in 
the  Boulevard  Saint  Michel,  and  were  sauntering 
now  in  the  gardens  of  the  Luxembourg.  Dr.  Porhoet 
walked  with  stooping  shoulders,  his  hands  behind 
him.  He  beheld  the  scene  with  the  eyes  of  the 
many  painters  who  have  sought  by  means  of  the 
most  charming  garden  in  Paris  to  express  their  sense 
of  beauty.  The  grass  was  scattered  with  the  fallen 
leaves,  but  their  wan  decay  served  not  to  give  a 
touch  of  nature  to  the  artifice  of  all  besides.  The 
trees  were  neatly  surrounded  by  bushes,  and  the 
bushes  by  trim  beds  of  flowers.  But  the  trees  grew 
without  abandonment,  as  though  conscious  of  the 
decorative  scheme  they  helped  to  form.  It  was 
autumn,  and  some  were  red  and  brown;  but  others 
were  leafless  already.  Many  of  the  flowers  were 
withered.  The  garden,  half  desolate  and  half  pre- 
tentious, reminded  one  of  a  light  woman,  no  longer 
young,  who  sought,  with  faded  finery,  with  powder 
and  paint,  to  make  a  brave  show  of  despair.  It  had 
those  false,  difficult  smiles  of  uneasy  gaiety,  and  the 

7 


8  THE  MAGICIAN 

pitiful  graces  which  attempt  a  fascination  that  the 
hurrying  years  have  rendered  vain. 

Dr.  Porhoet  drew  more  closely  round  his  fragile 
body  the  heavy  cloak  which  even  in  summer  he 
could  not  persuade  himself  to  discard.  The  best 
part  of  his  life  had  been  spent  in  Egypt,  in  the 
practice  of  medicine,  and  the  frigid  summers  of 
Europe  scarcely  warmed  his  blood.  His  memory 
flashed  for  an  instant  upon  those  multi-coloured 
streets  of  Alexandria;  and  then,  like  a  homing  bird, 
it  flew  to  the  green  woods  and  the  storm-beaten 
coasts  of  his  native  Brittany.  His  brown  eyes  were 
veiled  with  sudden  melancholy. 

"Let  us  wait  here  for  a  moment,"  he  said. 

They  took  two  straw-bottomed  chairs  and  sat 
near  the  octagonal  water  which  completes  with  its 
fountain  of  Cupids  the  enchanting  artificiality  of 
the  Luxembourg.  The  sun  shone  more  kindly  now, 
and  the  trees  which  framed  the  scene  were  golden 
and  lovely.  A  balustrade  of  stone  gracefully  en- 
closed the  space,  and  the  flowers,  freshly  bedded, 
were  very  gay.  In  one  corner  they  could  see  the 
squat,  quaint  towers  of  Saint  Sulpice,  and  on  the 
other  side  the  uneven  roofs  of  the  Boulevard  Saint 
Michel. 

The  palace  was  grey  and  solid.  Nurses,  some  in 
the  white  caps  of  their  native  province,  others  with 
the  satin  streamers  of  the  nounou,  marched  sedately 
two  by  two,  wheeling  perambulators  and  talking. 
Brightly  dressed  children  trundled  hoops  or  whipped 
a  stubborn  top.  As  he  watched  them,  Dr.  Porhoet's 
lips  broke  into  a  smile,  and  it  was  so  tender  that  his 


THE  MAGICIAN  9 

thin  face,  sallow  from  long  exposure  to  subtropical 
suns,  was  transfigured.  He  no  longer  struck  you 
merely  as  an  insignificant  little  man  with  hollow 
cheeks  and  a  thin  grey  beard;  for  the  weariness  of 
expression  which  was  habitual  to  him  vanished 
before  the  charming  sympathy  of  his  smile.  His 
sunken  eyes  glittered  with  a  kindly  but  ironic  good- 
humour.  Now  passed  a  guard  in  the  romantic 
cloak  of  a  brigand  in  comic  opera  and  a  peaked  cap 
like  that  of  an  alguacil.  A  group  of  telegraph  boys 
in  blue  stood  round  a  painter,  who  was  making 
a  sketch — notwithstanding  half-frozen  fingers.  Here 
and  there,  in  baggy  corduroys,  tight  jackets,  and 
wide-brimmed  hats,  strolled  students  who  might 
have  stepped  from  the  pages  of  Murger's  immortal 
romance.  But  the  students  now  are  uneasy  with 
the  fear  of  ridicule,  and  more  often  they  walk  in 
bowler  hats  and  the  neat  coats  of  the  boulevardier. 

Dr.  Porhoet  spoke  English  fluently,  with  scarcely 
a  trace  of  foreign  accent,  but  with  an  elaboration 
which  suggested  that  he  had  learned  the  language 
as  much  from  study  of  the  English  classics  as  from 
conversation. 

"And  how  is  Miss  Dauncey?"  he  asked,  turning 
to  his  friend. 

Arthur  Burdon  smiled. 

"Oh,  I  expect  she's  all  right.  I've  not  seen  her 
to-day,  but  I'm  going  to  tea  at  the  studio  this  after- 
noon, and  we  want  you  to  dine  with  us  at  the  Chien 
Noir." 

"I  shall  be  much  pleased.  But  do  you  not  wish 
to  be  by  yourselves?" 


10  THE  MAGICIAN  N 

"She  met  me  at  the  station  yesterday,  and  we 
dined  together.  We  talked  steadily  from  half-past 
six  till  midnight." 

"Or,  rather,  she  talked  and  you  listened  with  the 
delighted  attention  of  a  happy  lover/' 

Arthur  Burdon  had  just  arrived  in  Paris.  He 
was  a  surgeon  on  the  staff  of  St.  Luke's,  and  had 
come  ostensibly  to  study  the  methods  of  the  French 
operators;  but  his  real  object  was  certainly  to  see 
Margaret  Dauncey.  He  was  furnished  with  intro- 
ductions from  London  surgeons  of  repute,  and  had 
already  spent  a  morning  at  the  Hotel  Dieu,  where 
the  operator,  warned  that  his  visitor  was  a  bold  and 
skilful  surgeon,  whose  reputation  in  England  was 
already  considerable,  had  sought  to  dazzle  him  by 
feats  that  savored  almost  of  legerdemain.  Surgery 
was  the  only  topic  upon  which  Arthur  Burdon  could 
discourse  with  brilliancy.  He  was  quick  to  discern 
another's  merit,  and,  though  the  hint  of  charlatanry 
in  the  Frenchman's  methods  had  not  escaped  his 
shrewd  eyes,  the  audacious  sureness  of  his  hand  had 
excited  his  enthusiasm.  During  luncheon  he  talked 
of  nothing  else,  and  Dr.  Porhoet,  drawing  upon  his 
memory,  recounted  the  more  extraordinary  opera- 
tions that  he  had  witnessed  in  Egypt. 

He  had  known  Arthur  Burdon  ever  since  he  was 
born,  and  indeed  had  missed  being  present  at  his 
birth  only  because  the  Khedive  Ismail  had  sum- 
moned him  unexpectedly  to  Cairo.  But  the  Lev- 
antine merchant  who  was  Arthur's  father  had  been 
his  most  intimate  friend,  and  it  was  with  singular 
pleasure  that  Dr.  Porhoet  saw  the  young  man,  on 


THE  MAGICIAN  11 

his  advice,  enter  his  own   profession   and   achieve 
distinctions  already  which  himself  had  never  won. 

Though  too  much  interested  in  the  characters  of 
the  persons  whom  chance  threw  in  his  path  to  have 
much  ambition  on  his  own  behalf,  it  pleased  him  to 
see  it  in  others.  He  observed  with  satisfaction  the 
pride  which  Arthur  took  in  his  calling  and  the  de- 
termination, backed  by  confidence  and  talent,  to 
become  a  master  of  his  art.  Dr.  Porhoet  knew  that 
a  diversity  of  interests,  though  it  adds  charm  to  a 
man's  personality,  tends  to  weaken  him.  To  excel 
one's  fellows  it  is  needful  to  be  circumscribed.  He 
did  not  regret,  therefore,  that  Arthur  in  many  ways 
was  narrow.  Letters  and  the  arts  meant  little  to 
him.  Nor  would  he  trouble  himself  with  the  grace- 
ful trivialities  which  make  a  man  a  good  talker. 
In  mixed  company  he  was  content  to  listen  silently 
to  others,  and  only  something  very  definite  to  say 
could  tempt  him  to  join  in  the  general  conversation. 
He  worked  very  hard,  operating,  dissecting,  or  lec- 
turing at  his  hospital,  and  took  pains  to  read  every 
word,  not  only  in  English,  but  in  French  and  Ger- 
man^which  was  published  concerning  his  profession. 
Whenever  he  could  snatch  a  free  day  he  spent  it 
on  the  golf-links  of  Sunningdale,  for  he  was  an  eager 
and  a  fine  player. 

But  at  the  operating-table  Arthur  was  different. 
He  was  no  longer  the  awkward  man  of  social  inter- 
course, who  was  sufficiently  conscious  of  his  limita- 
tions not  to  talk  of  what  he  did  not  understand,  and 
sincere  enough  not  to  express  admiration  for  what 
he  did  not  like.  Then,  on  the  other  hand,  a  singular 


12  THE  MAGICIAN 

exhilaration  filled  him;  he  was  conscious  of  his 
power,  and  he  rejoiced  in  it.  No  unforeseen  acci- 
dent was  able  to  confuse  him.  He  seemed  to  have  a 
positive  instinct  for  operating,  and  his  hand  and  his 
brain  worked  in  a  manner  that  appeared  almost 
automatic.  He  never  hesitated,  and  he  had  no  fear 
of  failure.  His  success  had  been  no  less  than  his 
courage,  and  it  was  plain  that  soon  his  reputation 
with  the  public  would  equal  that  which  he  had  al- 
ready with  the  profession. 

Dr.  Porhoet  had  been  making  listless  patterns 
with  his  stick  upon  the  gravel,  and  now,  with  that 
charming  smile  of  his,  turned  to  Arthur. 

"  I  never  cease  to  be  astonished  at  the  unexpected- 
ness of  human  nature,"  he  remarked.  "It  is  really 
very  surprising  that  a  man  like  you  should  fall  so 
deeply  in  love  with  a  girl  like  Margaret  Dauncey." 

Arthur  made  no  reply,  and  Dr.  Porhoet,  fearing 
that  his  words  might  offend,  hastened  to  explain. 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  I  think  her  a  very 
charming  young  person.  She  has  beauty  and  grace 
and  sympathy.  But  your  characters  are  more  dif- 
ferent than  chalk  and  cheese.  Notwithstanding 
your  birth  in  the  East  and  your  boyhood  spent  amid 
the  very  scenes  of  the  Thousand  and  One  Nights, 
you  are  the  most  matter-of-fact  creature  I  have 
ever  come  across." 

"I  see  no  harm  in  your  saying  insular/'  smiled 
Arthur.  "I  confess  that  I  have  no  imagination  and 
no  sense  of  humour.  I  am  a  plain,  practical  man, 
but  I  can  see  to  the  end  of  my  nose  with  extreme 
clearness.  Fortunately  it  is  rather  a  long  one." 


THE  MAGICIAN  13 

"One  of  my  cherished  ideas  is  that  it  is  impossible 
to  love  without  imagination." 

Again  Arthur  Burdon  made  no  reply,  but  a  curi- 
ous look  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  gazed  in  front  of 
him.  It  was  the  look  which  might  fill  the  passion- 
ate eyes  of  a  mystic  when  he  saw  in  ecstasy  the 
Divine  Lady  of  his  constant  prayers. 

"But  Miss  Dauncey  has  none  of  that  narrowness 
of  outlook  which,  if  you  will  forgive  my  saying  so, 
is  perhaps  the  secret  of  your  strength.  She  has  a 
delightful  enthusiasm  for  every  form  of  art.  Beauty 
really  means  as  much  to  her  as  bread  and  butter  to 
the  more  soberly-minded.  And  she  takes  a  passion- 
ate interest  in  the  variety  of  life." 

"It  is  right  that  Margaret  should  care  for  beauty, 
since  there  is  beauty  in  every  inch  of  her,"  answered 
Arthur. 

He  was  too  reticent  to  proceed  to  any  analysis  of 
his  feelings;  but  he  knew  that  he  had  cared  for  her 
first  on  account  of  that  physical  perfection  which 
contrasted  so  astonishingly  with  the  countless  de- 
formities in  the  study  of  which  his  life  was  spent. 
But  one  phrase  escaped  him  almost  against  his  will. 

"The  first  time  I  saw  her  I  felt  as  though  a  new 
world  had  opened  to  my  ken." 

The  divine  music  of  Keats's  lines  rang  through 
Arthur's  remark,  and  to  the  Frenchman's  mind  gave 
his  passion  a  romantic  note  that  foreboded  future 
tragedy.  He  sought  to  dispel  the  cloud  which  his 
fancy  had  cast  upon  the  most  satisfactory  of  love 
affairs. 

"You  are  very  lucky,  my  friend.     Miss  Margaret 


14  THE  MAGICIAN 

admires  you  as  much  as  you  adore  her.  She  is  never 
tired  of  listening  to  my  prosy  stories  of  your  child- 
hood in  Alexandria,  and  I'm  quite  sure  that  she  will 
make  you  the  most  admirable  of  wives." 

"You  can't  be  more  sure  than  I  am/'  laughed 
Arthur. 

He  looked  upon  himself  as  a  happy  man.  He 
loved  Margaret  with  all  his  heart,  and  he  was  con- 
fident in  her  great  affection  for  him.  It  was  impos- 
sible that  anything  should  arise  to  disturb  the  pleas- 
ant life  which  they  had  planned  together.  His  love 
cast  a  glamour  upon  his  work,  and  his  work,  by  con- 
trast, made  love  the  more  entrancing. 

"We're  going  to  fix  the  date  of  our  marriage  now," 
he  said.  "I'm  buying  furniture  already." 

"I  think  only  English  people  could  have  behaved 
so  oddly  as  you,  in  postponing  your  marriage  with- 
out reason  for  two  mortal  years." 

"You  see,  Margaret  was  ten  when  I  first  saw  her, 
and  only  seventeen  when  I  asked  her  to  marry  me. 
She  thought  she  had  reason  to  be  grateful  to  me  and 
would  have  married  me  there  and  then.  But  I 
knew  she  hankered  after  these  two  years  in  Paris, 
and  I  didn't  feel  it  was  fair  to  bind  her  to  me  till 
she  had  seen  at  least  something  of  the  world.  And 
she  seemed  hardly  ready  for  marriage;  she  was 
growing  still." 

"Did  I  not  say  that  you  were  a  matter-of-fact 
young  man?"  smiled  Dr.  Porhoet. 

"And  it's  not  as  if  there  had  been  any  doubt  about 
our  knowing  our  minds.  We  both  cared,  and  we 
had  a  long  time  before  us.  We  could  afford  to  wait." 


THE  MAGICIAN  15 

At  that  moment  a  man  strolled  past  them,  a  big 
stout  fellow,  showily  dressed  in  a  check  suit;  and  he 
gravely  took  off  his  hat  to  Dr.  Porhoet.  The  doctor 
smiled  and  returned  the  salute. 

"Who  is  your  fat  friend?"  asked  Arthur. 

"That  is  a  compatriot  of  yours.  His  name  is 
Oliver  Haddo." 

"Art-student?"  inquired  Arthur,  with  the  scorn- 
ful tone  he  used  when  referring  to  those  whose  walk 
in  life  was  not  so  practical  as  his  own. 

"Not  exactly.  I  met  him  a  little  while  ago  by 
chance.  When  I  was  getting  together  the  material 
for  my  little  book  on  the  old  alchemists  I  read  a 
great  deal  at  the  library  of  the  Arsenal,  which,  you 
may  have  heard,  is  singularly  rich  in  all  works  deal- 
ing with  the  occult  sciences." 

Burdon's  face  assumed  an  expression  of  amused 
disdain.  He  could  not  understand  why  Dr.  Porhoet 
occupied  his  leisure  with  studies  so  profitless.  He 
had  read  his  book,  recently  published,  on  the  more 
famous  of  the  alchemists;  and,  though  forced  to 
admire  the  profound  knowledge  upon  which  it  was 
based,  he  could  not  forgive  the  waste  of  time  which 
his  friend  might  have  expended  more  usefully  on 
topics  of  pressing  moment. 

"Not  many  people  study  in  that  library,"  pursued 
the  doctor,  "and  I  soon  knew  by  sight  those  who 
were  frequently  there.  I  saw  this  gentleman  every 
day.  He  was  immersed  in  strange  old  books  when 
I  arrived  early  in  the  morning,  and  he  was  reading 
them  still  when  I  left,  exhausted.  Sometimes  it 
happened  that  he  had  the  volumes  I  asked  for,  and 


16  THE  MAGICIAN 

I  discovered  that  he  was  studying  the  same  subjects 
as  myself.  His  appearance  was  extraordinary,  but 
scarcely  sympathetic;  so,  though  I  fancied  that  he 
gave  me  opportunities  to  address  him,  I  did  not  avail 
myself  of  them.  One  day,  however,  curiously 
enough,  I  was  looking  up  some  point  upon  which  it 
seemed  impossible  to  find  authorities.  The  librarian 
could  not  help  me,  and  I  had  given  up  the  search, 
when  this  person  brought  me  the  very  book  I  needed. 
I  surmised  that  the  librarian  had  told  him  of  my 
difficulty.  I  was  very  grateful  to  the  stranger.  We 
left  together  that  afternoon,  and  our  kindred  studies 
gave  us  a  common  topic  of  conversation.  I  found 
that  his  reading  was  extraordinarily  wide,  and  he  was 
able  to  give  me  information  about  works  which  I 
had  never  even  heard  of.  He  had  the  advantage 
over  me  that  he  could  apparently  read  Hebrew  as 
well  as  Arabic,  and  he  had  studied  the  Kabbalah 
in  the  original." 

"And  much  good  it  did  him,  I  have  no  doubt," 
said  Arthur.  "And  what  is  he  by  profession?" 

Dr.  Porhoet  gave  a  deprecating  smile. 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  hardly  like  to  tell  you.  I 
tremble  in  every  limb  at  the  thought  of  your  un- 
mitigated scorn." 

"Well?" 

"You  know,  Paris  is  full  of  queer  people.  It  is 
the  chosen  home  of  every  kind  of  eccentricity.  It 
sounds  incredible  in  this  year  of  grace,  but  my 
friend  Oliver  Haddo  claims  to  be  a  magician.  I 
think  he  is  quite  serious." 

"Silly  ass!"  answered  Arthur  with  emphasis. 


Chapter  II 

MARGARET  shared  a  flat  near  the  Boulevard  du 
Montparnasse  with  Susie  Boyd;  and  it  was  to 
meet  her  that  Arthur  Burdon  had  arranged  to  come 
to  tea  that  afternoon.  The  young  women  waited 
for  him  in  the  studio.  The  kettle  was  boiling  on  the 
stove;  cups  and  petits  fours  stood  in  readiness  on  a 
model  stand.  Susie  looked  forward  to  the  meeting 
with  interest.  She  had  heard  a  good  deal  of  the 
young  man,  and  knew  that  the  connection  between 
him  and  Margaret  was  not  lacking  in  romance.  For 
years  Susie  had  led  the  monotonous  life  of  a  mis- 
tress in  a  school  for  young  ladies,  and  had  resigned 
herself  to  its  dreariness  for  the  rest  of  her  days, 
when  a  legacy  from  a  distant  relative  gave  her 
sufficient  income  to  live  modestly  upon  her  means. 
When  Margaret,  who  had  been  her  pupil,  came, 
soon  after  this,  to  announce  her  intention  of  spend- 
ing a  couple  of  years  in  Paris  to  study  art,  Susie 
willingly  agreed  to  accompany  her.  Since  then  she 
had  worked  industriously  at  Colarossi's  Academy, 
by  no  means  under  the  delusion  that  she  had  talent, 
but  merely  to  amuse  herself.  She  refused  to  sur- 
render the  pleasing  notion  that  her  environment 
was  slightly  wicked.  After  the  toil  of  many  years 
it  relieved  her  to  be  earnest  in  nothing;  and  she 

17 


18  THE  MAGICIAN 

found  infinite  satisfaction  in  watching  the  lives  of 
those  around  her. 

She  had  a  great  affection  for  Margaret,  and 
though  her  own  stock  of  enthusiasms  was  run  low, 
she  could  enjoy  thoroughly  Margaret's  young  en- 
chantment in  all  that  was  exquisite.  She  was  a 
plain  woman;  but  there  was  no  envy  in  her,  and  she 
took  the  keenest  pleasure  in  Margaret's  comeliness. 
It  was  almost  with  maternal  pride  that  she  watched 
each  year  add  a  new  grace  to  that  exceeding  beauty. 
But  her  common  sense  was  sound,  and  she  took  care 
by  good-natured  banter  to  temper  the  praises  which 
extravagant  admirers  at  the  drawing-class  lavished 
upon  the  handsome  girl  both  for  her  looks  and  for 
her  talent.  She  was  proud  to  think  that  she  would 
hand  over  to  Arthur  Burdon  a  woman  whose  char- 
acter she  had  helped  to  form,  and  whose  loveliness 
she  had  cultivated  with  a  delicate  care. 

Susie  knew,  partly  from  fragments  of  letters  which 
Margaret  read  to  her,  partly  from  her  conversation, 
how  passionately  he  adored  his  bride;  and  it  pleased 
her  to  see  that  Margaret  loved  him  in  return  with  a 
grateful  devotion.  The  story  of  this  visit  to  Paris 
touched  her  imagination.  Margaret  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  country  barrister,  with  whom  Arthur  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  staying;  and  when  he  died, 
many  years  after  his  wife,  Arthur  found  himself  the 
girl's  guardian  and  executor.  He  sent  her  to  school; 
saw  that  she  had  everything  she  could  possibly  want; 
and  when,  at  seventeen,  she  told  him  of  her  wish 
to  go  to  Paris  and  learn  drawing,  he  at  once  con- 
sented. But  though  he  never  sought  to  assume 


THE  MAGICIAN  19 

authority  over  her,  he  suggested  that  she  should  not 
live  alone,  and  it  was  on  this  account  that  she  went 
to  Susie.  The  preparations  for  the  journey  were 
scarcely  made  when  Margaret  discovered  by  chance 
that  her  father  had  died  penniless,  and  she  had 
lived  ever  since  at  Arthur's  entire  expense.  When 
she  went  to  see  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  told 
him  what  she  knew,  Arthur  was  so  embarrassed  that 
it  was  quite  absurd. 

"But  why  did  you  do  it?"  she  asked  him.  "Why 
didn't  you  tell  me?" 

"I  didn't  think  it  fair  to  put  you  under  any 
obligation  to  me,  and  I  wanted  you  to  feel  quite 
free." 

She  could  no  longer  restrain  her  tears.  She  was 
quite  overwhelmed. 

"Don't  be  so  silly,"  he  laughed.  "You  owe  me 
nothing  at  all.  I've  done  very  little  for  you,  and 
what  I  have  done  has  given  me  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure." 

"I  don't  know  how  I  can  ever  repay  you." 

"Oh,  don't  say  that,"  he  cried.  "It  makes  it  so 
much  harder  for  me  to  say  what  I  want  to." 

She  looked  at  him  quickly  and  reddened.  Her 
deep  blue  eyes  were  veiled  with  tears. 

"Don't  you  know  that  I'd  do  anything  in  the 
world  for  you?"  she  cried. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  be  grateful  to  me,  because 
I  was  hoping — I  might  ask  you  to  marry  me  some 
day." 

Margaret  laughed  charmingly  as  she  held  out  her 
hands. 


20  THE  MAGICIAN 

"You  must  know  that  I've  been  wanting  you  to 
do  that  ever  since  I  was  ten/' 

She  was  quite  willing  to  give  up  her  idea  of  Paris 
and  be  married  without  delay,  but  Arthur  pressed 
her  not  to  change  her  plans.  At  first  Margaret 
vowed  it  was  impossible  to  go,  for  she  knew  now 
that  she  had  no  money,  and  she  could  not  let  her 
lover  pay. 

"But  what  does  it  matter?"  he  said.  "It'll  give 
me  such  pleasure  to  go  on  with  the  small  allowance 
I've  been  making  you.  After  all,  I'm  pretty  well- 
to-do.  My  father  left  me  a  moderate  income,  and 
I'm  making  a  good  deal  already  by  operating." 

"Yes,  but  it's  different  now.  I  didn't  know  be- 
fore. I  thought  I  was  spending  my  own  money." 

"If  I  died  to-morrow  every  penny  I  have  would 
be  yours.  We  shall  be  married  in  two  years,  and 
we've  known  one  another  much  too  long  to  change 
our  minds.  I  think  that  our  lives  are  quite  irrevo- 
cably united." 

Margaret  wished  very  much  to  spend  this  time  in 
Paris,  and  Arthur  had  made  up  his  mind  that  in 
fairness  to  her  they  could  not  marry  till  she  was 
nineteen.  She  consulted  Susie  Boyd,  whose  com- 
mon-sense prevented  her  from  paying  much  heed 
to  romantic  notions  of  false  delicacy. 

"My  dear,  you'd  take  his  money  without  scruple 
if  you'd  signed  your  names  in  a  church  vestry,  and 
as  there's  not  the  least  doubt  that  you'll  marry,  I 
don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  now.  Besides,  you've 
got  nothing  whatever  to  live  on,  and  you're  equally 
unfitted  to  be  a  governess  or  a  typewriter.  So  it's 


THE  MAGICIAN  21 

Hobson's  choice,  and  you'd  better  put  your  exquisite 
sentiments  in  your  pocket/* 

Miss  Boyd,  by  one  accident  after  another,  had 
never  seen  Arthur,  but  she  had  heard  so  much  that 
she  looked  upon  him  already  as  an  old  friend.  She 
admired  him  for  his  talent  and  strength  of  character 
as  much  as  for  his  loving  tenderness  to  Margaret. 
She  had  seen  portraits  of  him,  but  Margaret  said 
he  did  not  photograph  well.  She  had  asked  if  he 
was  good-looking. 

"No,  I  don't  think  he  is,"  answered  Margaret, 
"but  he's  very  paintable." 

"That  is  an  answer  which  has  the  advantage  of 
sounding  well  and  meaning  nothing,"  smiled  Susie. 

She  believed  privately  that  Margaret's  passion  for 
the  arts  was  a  not  unamiable  pose  which  would  dis- 
appear when  she  was  happily  married.  To  have 
half  a  dozen  children  was  in  her  mind  much  more 
important  than  to  paint  pictures.  Margaret's  talent 
was  by  no  means  despicable,  but  Susie  was  not  con- 
vinced that  callous  masters  would  have  been  so 
enthusiastic  if  Margaret  had  been  as  plain  and  as 
old  as  herself. 

Miss  Boyd  was  thirty.  Her  busy  life  had  not 
caused  the  years  to  pass  easily,  and  she  looked 
older.  But  she  was  one  of  those  plain  women  whose 
plainness  does  not  matter.  A  gallant  Frenchman 
had  to  her  face  called  her  a  belle  laide,  and,  far 
from  denying  the  justness  of  his  observation,  she 
had  been  almost  flattered.  Her  mouth  was  large, 
and  she  had  little  round  bright  eyes.  Her  skin  was 
colourless  and  much  disfigured  by  freckles.  Her 


22  THE  MAGICIAN 

nose  was  long  and  thin.  But  her  face  was  so  kindly, 
her  vivacity  so  attractive  that  no  one  after  ten 
minutes  thought  of  her  ugliness.  You  noticed  then 
that  her  hair,  though  sprinkled  with  white,  was 
abundant,  and  that  her  figure  was  exceedingly 
neat.  Her  teeth  were  exquisite.  She  had  wonder- 
ful hands,  very  white  and  admirably  formed,  which 
she  waved  continually  in  the  fervour  of  her  ges- 
ticulation. Now  that  her  means  were  adequate  she 
took  great  pains  with  her  dress,  and  her  clothes, 
though  they  cost  much  more  than  she  could  afford, 
were  always  beautiful.  Her  taste  was  so  great,  her 
tact  so  sure  that  she  was  able  to  make  the  most  of 
herself.  She  was  determined  that  if  people  called 
her  ugly  they  should  be  forced  in  the  same  breath 
to  confess  that  she  was  perfectly  gowned.  Susie's 
talent  for  dress  was  remarkable,  and  it  was  due  to 
her  influence  that  Margaret  was  arrayed  always  in 
the  latest  mode.  The  girl's  taste  inclined  to  be  ar- 
tistic, and  her  sense  of  colour  was  apt  to  run  away 
with  her  discretion.  Except  for  the  display  of 
Susie's  firmness,  she  would  scarcely  have  resisted  her 
desire  to  wear  nondescript  garments  of  violent  hue. 
But  the  older  woman  expressed  herself  with  decision. 

"My  dear,  you  won't  draw  any  the  worse  for 
wearing  a  well-made  corset,  and  to  surround  your 
body  with  bands  of  grey  flannel  will  certainly  not 
increase  your  talent." 

"But  the  fashion  is  so  hideous,"  smiled  Margaret. 

"Fiddlesticks!  The  fashion  is  always  beautiful. 
Last  year  it  was  beautiful  to  wear  a  hat  like  a 
pork-pie  tipped  over  your  nose;  and  next  year,  for 


THE  MAGICIAN  23 

all  I  know,  it  will  be  beautiful  to  wear  a  bonnet  like 
a  sitz-bath  at  the  back  of  your  head.  Art  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  a  smart  frock,  and  whether  a  high- 
heeled  pointed  shoe  commends  itself  or  not  to  the 
painters  in  the  quarter,  it's  the  only  thing  in  which 
a  woman's  foot  looks  really  nice." 

Susie  Boyd  vowed  that  she  would  not  live  with 
Margaret  at  all  unless  she  let  her  see  to  the  buying 
of  her  things. 

"And  when  you're  married,  for  heaven's  sake  ask 
me  to  stay  with  you  four  times  a  year,  so  that  I 
can  see  after  your  clothes.  You'll  never  keep  your 
husband's  affection  if  you  trust  to  your  own  judg- 
ment." 

Miss  Boyd's  reward  had  come  the  night  before, 
when  Margaret,  coming  home  from  dinner  with 
Arthur,  had  repeated  an  observation  of  his. 

"How  beautifully  you're  dressed!"  he  had  said. 
"I  was  rather  afraid  you'd  be  wearing  art-serges." 

"Of  course  you  didn't  tell  him  that  I  insisted  on 
buying  every  stitch  you'd  got  on,"  cried  Susie. 

"Yes,  I  did,"  answered  Margaret  simply.  "I 
told  him  I  had  no  taste  at  all,  but  that  you  were 
responsible  for  everything." 

"That  was  the  least  you  could  do,"  answered 
Miss  Boyd. 

But  her  heart  went  out  to  Margaret,  for  the  trivial 
incident  showed  once  more  how  frank  the  girl  was. 
She  knew  quite  well  that  few  of  her  friends,  though 
many  took  advantage  of  her  matchless  taste,  would 
have  made  such  an  admission  to  the  lover  who 
gratulated  them  on  the  success  of  their  costume. 


24  THE  MAGICIAN 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  studio  door,  and  Arthur 
came  in. 

"This  is  the  fairy-prince,"  said  Margaret,  bring- 
ing him  to  her  friend. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you  in  order  to  thank  you  for 
all  you've  done  for  Margaret,"  he  smiled,  taking 
the  proffered  hand. 

Susie  remarked  that  he  looked  upon  her  with 
friendliness,  but  with  a  certain  vacancy,  as  though 
too  much  engrossed  in  his  beloved  really  to  notice 
anyone  else:  and  she  wondered  how  to  make  con- 
versation with  a  man  who  was  so  manifestly  ab- 
sorbed. While  Margaret  busied  herself  with  the 
preparations  for  tea,  his  eyes  followed  her  move- 
ments with  a  doglike,  touching  devotion.  They 
travelled  from  her  smiling  mouth  to  her  deft  hands. 
It  seemed  that  he  had  never  seen  anything  so 
ravishing  as  the  way  in  which  she  bent  over  the 
kettle.  Margaret  felt  that  he  was  looking  at  her, 
and  turned  round.  Their  eyes  met,  and  they  stood 
for  an  appreciable  time  gazing  at  one  another 
silently. 

"Don't  be  a  pair  of  perfect  idiots,"  cried  Susie 
gaily.  "I'm  dying  for  my  tea." 

The  lovers  laughed  and  reddened.  It  struck 
Arthur  that  he  should  say  something  polite. 

"I  hope  you'll  show  me  your  sketches  afterwards, 
Miss  Boyd.  Margaret  says  they're  awfully  good." 

"You  really  needn't  think  it  in  the  least  neces- 
sary to  show  any  interest  in  Lme,"  she  replied 
bluntly. 

"She  draws  the  most  delightful  caricatures,"  said 


THE  MAGICIAN  25 

Margaret.     'Til  bring  you  a  horror  of  yourself, 
which  she'll  do  the  moment  you  go  out  of  the 


room." 


"Don't  be  so  spiteful,  Margaret." 

Miss  Boyd  could  not  help  thinking  ail  the  same 
that  Arthur  Burdon  would  caricature  very  well. 
Margaret  was  right  when  she  said  that  he  was  not 
handsome,  but  his  clean-shaven  face  was  full  of  in- 
terest to  so  passionate  an  observer  of  her  kind.  The 
lovers  were  silent,  and  Susie  had  the  conversation 
to  herself.  She  chatted  without  pause  and  had  the 
satisfaction  presently  of  capturing  their  attention. 
Arthur  seemed  to  become  aware  of  her  presence, 
and  laughed  heartily  at  her  burlesque  account  of 
their  fellow-students  at  Colarossi's.  Meanwhile 
Susie  examined  him.  He  was  very  tall  and  very 
thin.  His  frame  had  a  Yorkshireman's  solidity,  and 
his  bones  were  massive.  He  missed  being  ungainly 
only  through  the  serenity  of  his  self-reliance.  He 
hatf  high  cheek-bones  and  a  long,  lean  face.  His 
nose  and  his  mouth  were  large,  and  his  skin  was 
sallow.  But  there  were  two  characteristics  which 
fascinated  her,  an  imposing  strength  of  purpose  and 
a  singular  capacity  for  suffering.  This  was  a  man 
who  knew  his  mind  and  was  determined  to  achieve 
his  desire;  it  refreshed  her  vastly  after  the  extreme 
weakness  of  the  young  painters  with  whom  of  late 
she  had  mostly  consorted.  But  those  quick  dark 
eyes  were  able  to  express  an  anguish  that  was  hardly 
tolerable,  and  the  mobile  mouth  had  a  nervous  in- 
tensity which  suggested  that  he  might  easily  suffer 
the  very  agonies  of  woe. 


26  THE  MAGICIAN 

Tea  was  ready,  and  Arthur  stood  up  to  receive 
his  cup. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Margaret.  "I'll  bring  you 
everything  you  want,  and  I  know  exactly  how  much 
sugar  to  put  in.  It  pleases  me  to  wait  on  you." 

With  the  exquisite  grace  that  marked  all  her 
movements  she  walked  across  the  studio,  the  filled 
cup  in  one  hand  and  the  plate  of  cakes  in  the  other. 
To  Susie  it  seemed  that  he  was  overwhelmed  with 
gratitude  by  Margaret's  condescension.  His  eyes 
were  soft  with  indescribable  tenderness  as  he  took 
the  sweetmeats  she  gave  him.  Margaret  smiled 
with  happy  pride.  For  all  her  good-nature,  Susie 
could  not  prevent  the  pang  that  wrung  her  heart; 
for  she  too  was  capable  of  love.  There  was  in  her 
a  wealth  of  passionate  affection  that  none  had  sought 
to  find.  None  had  ever  whispered  in  her  ears  the 
charming  nonsense  that  she  read  in  books.  She  * 
recognized  that  she  had  no  beauty  to  help  her,  but 
once  she  had  at  least  the  charm  of  vivacious  youth. 
That  was  gone  now,  and  the  freedom  to  go  into  the 
world  had  come  too  late;  yet  her  instinct  told  her 
that  she  was  made  to  be  a  decent  man's  wife  and  the 
mother  of  children.  She  stopped  in  the  middle  of 
her  bright  chatter,  fearing  to  trust  her  voice,  but 
Margaret  and  Arthur  were  too  much  occupied  to 
notice  that  she  had  ceased  to  speak.  They  sat  side 
by  side  and  enjoyed  the  happiness  of  one  another's 
company. 

"What  a  fool  I  am!"  thought  Susie. 

She  had  learnt  long  ago  that  common-sense,  in- 
telligence, good-nature,  and  strength  of  character 


THE  MAGICIAN  27 

were  unimportant  in  comparison  with  a  pretty  face. 
She  shrugged  her  shoulders* 

"I  don't  know  if  you  young  things  realise  that 
it's  growing  late.  If  you  want  us  to  dine  at  the 
Chien  Noir,  you  must  leave  usjnow,  so  that  we  can 
make  ourselves  tidy." 

"Very  well,"  said  Arthur,  getting  up.  'Til  go 
back  to  my  hotel  and  have  a  wash.  We'll  meet  at 
half-past  seven." 

When  Margaret  had  closed  the  door  on  him,  she 
turned  to  her  friend. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think ?"  she  asked,  smiling. 

"You  can't  expect  me  to  form  a  definite  opinion 
of  a  man  whom  I've  seen  for  so  short  a  time." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Margaret. 

Susie  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"I  think  he  has  an  extraordinarily  good  face," 
she  said  at  last  gravely.  "I've  never  seen  a  man 
whose  honesty  of  purpose  was  so  transparent." 

Susie  Boyd  was  so  lazy  that  she  could  never  be 
induced  to  occupy  herself  with  household  matters, 
and,  while  Margaret  put  the  tea  things  away,  she 
began  to  draw  the  caricature  which  every  new  face 
suggested  to  her.  She  made  a  little  sketch  of 
Arthur,  abnormally  lanky,  with  a  colossal  nose,  with 
the  wings  and  the  bow  and  arrow  of  the  God  of 
Love,  but  it  was  not  half  done  before  she  thought  it 
silly.  She  tore  it  up  with  impatience.  When  Mar- 
garet came  back  into  the  studio  she  turned  round 
and  looked  at  her  steadily. 

"Well?"  said  the  girl,  smiling  under  the  scrutiny. 

She  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  lofty  studio.    Half- 


28  THE  MAGICIAN 

finished  canvases  leaned  with  their  faces  against 
the  wall;  pieces  of  stuff  were  hung  here  and  there, 
and  photographs  of  well-known  pictures.  She  had 
fallen  unconsciously  into  a  wonderful  pose,  and  her 
beauty  gave  her,  notwithstanding  her  youth,  a  rare 
dignity.  Susie  smiled  mockingly. 

"You  look  like  a  Greek  goddess  in  a  Paris  frock,5* 
she  said. 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  me?"  asked  Margaret, 
divining  from  the  searching  look  that  something  was 
in  her  friend's  mind. 

Susie  stood  up  and  went  to  her. 

"You  know,  before  I'd  seen  him  I  hoped  with 
all  my  heart  that  he'd  make  you  happy.  Notwith- 
standing all  you'd  told  me  of  him,  I  was  afraid. 
I  knew  he  was  much  older  than  you.  He  was 
the  first  man  you'd  ever  known.  I  could  scarcely 
bear  to  entrust  you  to  him  in  case  you  were 
miserable." 

"I  don't  think  you  need  have  any  fear." 

"But  now  I  hope  with  all  my  heart  that  you'll 
make  him  happy.  It's  not  you  I'm  frightened  for 
now,  but  him." 

Margaret  did  not  answer;  she  could  not  under- 
stand what  Susie  meant. 

"I've  never  seen  anyone  with  such  a  capacity  for 
wretchedness  as  that  man  has.  I  don't  think  you 
can  conceive  how  desperately  he  might  suffer.  Be 
very  careful,  Margaret,  and  be  very  good  to  him,  for 
you  have  the  power  to  make  him  more  unhappy 
than  any  human  being  should  be." 

"Oh,  but  I  want  him  to  be  happy,"  cried  Mar- 


THE  MAGICIAN  29 

garet  vehemently.  "You  know  that  I  owe  every- 
thing to  him.  I'd  do  all  I  could  to  make  him  happy, 
even  if  I  had  to  sacrifice  myself.  But  I  can't  sacrifice 
myself,  because  I  love  him  so  much  that  all  I  do  is 
pure  delight." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  her  voice  broke. 
Susie,  with  a  little  laugh  that  was  half  hysterical, 
kissed  her. 

"My  dear,  for  heaven's  sake  don't  cry!  You 
know  I  can't  bear  people  who  weep,  and  if  he  sees 
your  eyes  red,  he'll  never  forgive  me." 


Chapter  III 

THE  Chien  Noiry  where  Susie  Boyd  and  Margaret 
generally  dined,  was  the  most  charming  res- 
taurant in  the  quarter.  Downstairs  was  a  public 
room,  where  all  and  sundry  devoured  their  food,  for 
the  little  place  had  a  reputation  for  good  cooking 
combined  with  cheapness;  and  the  patron,  a  retired 
horse-dealer  who  had  taken  to  victualling  in  order 
to  build  up  a  business  for  his  son,  was  a  cheery  soul 
whose  loud-voiced  friendliness  attracted  custom. 
But  on  the  first  floor  was  a  narrow  room,  with  three 
tables  arranged  in  a  horse-shoe,  which  was  reserved 
for  a  small  party  of  English  or  American  painters 
and  a  few  Frenchmen  with  their  wives.  At  least, 
they  were  so  nearly  wives,  and  their  manner  had 
such  a  matrimonial  respectability  that  Susie,  when 
first  she  and  Margaret  were  introduced  into  this 
society,  judged  it  would  be  vulgar  to  turn  up  her 
nose.  She  held  that  it  was  prudish  to  insist  upon 
the  conventions  of  Netting  Hill  in  the  Boulevard  du 
Montparnasse.  The  young  women  who  had  thrown 
in  their  lives  with  these  painters  were  modest  in 
demeanour  and  quiet  in  dress.  They  were  model 
housewives,  who  had  preserved  their  self-respect 
notwithstanding  a  difficult  position,  and  did  not  look 
upon  their  relation  with  less  seriousness  because  they 
had  not  muttered  a  few  words  before  Monsieur  le 

Maire. 

so 


THE  MAGICIAN  31 

The  room  was  full  when  Arthur  Burdon  entered, 
but  Margaret  had  kept  him  an  empty  seat  between 
herself  and  Miss  Boyd.  Everyone  was  speaking  at 
once,  ir\  French,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  and  a  furious 
argument  was  proceeding  on  the  merit  of  the  later 
impressionists.  Arthur  sat  down,  and  was  hurriedly 
introduced  to  a  lanky  youth,  who  sat  on  the  other 
side  of  Margaret.  He  was  very  tall,  very  thin,  very 
fair.  He  wore  a  very  high  collar  and  very  long  hair, 
and  held  himself  like  an  exhausted  lily. 

"He  always  reminds  me  of  an  Aubrey  Beardsley 
that's  been  dreadfully  smudged/'  said  Susie  in  an 
undertone.  "He's  a  nice,  kind  creature,  but  his 
name  is  Jagson.  He  has  virtue  and  industry.  I 
haven't  seen  any  of  his  work,  but  he  has  absolutely 
no  talent." 

"How  do  you  know,  if  you've  not  seen  his  pic- 
tures?" asked  Arthur. 

"Oh,  it's  one  of  our  conventions  here  that  nobody 
has  talent,"  laughed  Susie.  "We  suffer  one  another 
personally,  but  we  have  no  illusions  about  the  value 
of  our  neighbor's  work." 

"Tell  me  who  everyone  is." 

"Well,  look  at  the  little  bald  man  in  the  corner. 
That  is  Warren." 

Arthur  looked  at  the  man  she  pointed  out.  He 
was  a  small  person,  with  a  pate  as  shining  as  a 
billiard-ball,  and  a  pointed  beard.  He  had  protrud- 
ing, brilliant  eyes. 

"Hasn't  he  had  too  much  to  drink?"  asked  Arthur 
frigidly. 

"Much,"   answered   Susie  promptly;    "but  he's 


32  THE  MAGICIAN 

always  in  that  condition,  and  the  further  he  gets 
from  sobriety  the  more  charming  he  is.  He's  the 
only  man  in  this  room  of  whom  you'll  never  hear  a 
word  of  evil.  The  strange  thing  is  that  he's  very 
nearly  a  great  painter.  He  has  the  most  fascinating 
sense  of  colour  in  the  world,  and  the  more  intoxicated 
he  is,  the  more  delicate  and  beautiful  is  his  painting. 
Sometimes,  after  more  than  the  usual  number  of 
aperitifs,  he  will  sit  down  in  a  cafe  to  do  a  sketch, 
with  his  hand  so  shaky  that  he  can  hardly  hold  a 
brush;  he  has  to  wait  for  a  favourable  moment,  and 
then  he  makes  a  jab  at  the  panel.  And  the  immoral 
thing  is  that  each  of  these  little  jabs  is  lovely.  He's 
the  most  delightful  interpreter  of  Paris  I  know,  and 
when  you've  seen  his  sketches — he's  done  hundreds 
of  unimaginable  grace  and  feeling  and  distinc- 
tion— you  can  never  see  Paris  in  the  same  way 
again." 

The  little  maid  who  looked  busily  after  the  varied 
wants  of  the  customers  stood  in  front  of  them  to 
receive  Arthur's  order.  She  was  a  hard-visaged 
creature  of  mature  age,  but  she  looked  neat  in  her 
black  dress  and  white  cap;  and  she  had  a  motherly 
way  of  attending  to  these  people,  with  a  capacious 
smile  of  her  large  mouth  which  was  full  of  charm. 

"I  don't  mind  what  I  eat,"  said  Arthur.  "Let 
Margaret  order  my  dinner  for  me." 

"It  would  have  been  just  as  good  as  if  I  had  ordered 
it,"  laughed  Susie. 

They  began  a  lively  discussion  with  Marie  as  to 
the  merits  of  the  various  dishes,  and  it  was  only 
interrupted  by  Warren's  hilarious  expostulations. 


THE  MAGICIAN  33 

"Marie,  I  precipitate  myself  at  your  feet,  and 
beg  you  to  bring  me  a  poule  au  riz" 

"Oh,  but  give  me  one  moment,  monsieur"  said 
the  maid. 

"Do  not  pay  any  attention  to  that  gentleman. 
His  morals  are  detestable,  and  he  only  seeks  to  lead 
you  from  the  narrow  path  of  virtue." 

Arthur  protested  that  on  the  contrary  the  passion 
of  hunger  occupied  at  that  moment  his  heart  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  others. 

"Marie,  you  no  longer  love  me/*  cried  Warren. 
"There  was  a  time  when  you  did  not  look  so  coldly 
upon  me  when  I  ordered  a  bottle  of  white  wine." 

The  rest  of  the  party  took  up  his  complaint,  and 
all  besought  her  not  to  show  too  hard  a  heart  to  the 
bald  and  rubicund  painter. 

"Mais  si,  je  vous  aime,  Monsieur  Warren"  she 
cried,  laughing,  "Je  vous  aime  tous,  tons" 

She  ran  downstairs,  amid  the  shouts  of  men  and 
women,  to  give  her  orders. 

"The  other  day  the  Chien  Noir  was  the  scene  of 
a  tragedy,"  said  Susie.  "Marie  broke  off  relations 
with  her  lover,  who  is  a  waiter  at  Lavenue's,  and 
would  have  no  reconciliation.  He  waited  till  he 
had  a  free  evening,  and  then  came  to  the  next 
room  and  ordered  dinner.  Of  course,  she  was 
obliged  to  wait  on  him,  and  as  she  brought  him  each 
dish  he  expostulated  with  her,  and  they  mingled 
their  tears." 

"She  wept  in  floods,"  interrupted  a  youth,  with 
neatly  brushed  hair  and  a  fat  nose.  "She  wept  all 
over  our  food,  and  we  ate  it  salt  with  tears.  We 


34  THE  MAGICIAN 

besought  her  not  to  yield;  except  for  our  encourage- 
ment she  would  have  gone  back  to  him;  and  he  beats 
her/5 

Marie  appeared  again,  with  no  signs  now  that  so 
short  awhile  ago  romance  had  played  at  game  with 
her,  and  brought  the  dishes  that  had  been  ordered. 
Susie  seized  once  more  upon  Arthur  Burdon's  at- 
tention. 

"Now  please  look  at  the  man  who  is  sitting  next 
to  Mr.  Warren/' 

Arthur  saw  a  tall,  dark  fellow  with  strongly- 
marked  features,  untidy  hair,  and  a  ragged  black 
moustache. 

"That  is  Mr.  O'Brien,  who  is  an  example  of  the 
fact  that  strength  of  will  and  an  earnest  purpose 
cannot  make  a  painter.  He's  a  failure  and  he  knows 
it,  and  the  bitterness  has  warped  his  soul.  If  you 
listen  to  him  you'll  hear  every  painter  of  eminence 
come  under  his  lash.  He  can  forgive  nobody  who's 
successful,  and  he  never  acknowledges  merit  in  any- 
one till  he's  safely  dead  and  buried." 

"He  must  be  a  cheerful  companion,"  answered 
Arthur.  "And  who  is  the  stout  old  lady  by  his 
side,  with  the  flaunting  hat?" 

"That  is  the  mother  of  Madame  Rouge,  the  little 
pale-faced  woman  sitting  next  to  her.  She  is  the 
mistress  of  Rouge,  who  does  all  the  illustrations  for 
La  Semaine.  At  first  it  rather  tickled  me  that  the 
old  lady  should  call  him  mon  gendre,  my  son-in-law, 
and  take  the  irregular  union  of  her  daughter  with 
such  a  noble  unconcern  for  propriety;  but  how  it 
seems  quite  natural." 


THE  MAGICIAN  35 

The  mother  of  Madame  Rouge  had  the  remains 
of  beauty,  and  she  sat  bolt  upright,  picking  the  leg 
of  a  chicken  with  a  dignified  gesture.  Arthur  looked 
away  quickly,  for,  catching  his  eye,  she  gave  him  an 
amorous  glance.  Rouge  had  more  the  appearance 
of  a  prosperous  tradesman  than  of  an  artist;  but  he 
carried  on  with  O'Brien,  whose  French  was  perfect, 
an  argument  on  the  merits  of  Cezanne.  To  one  he 
was  a  great  master  and  to  the  other  an  impudent 
charlatan.  Each  hotly  repeated  his  opinion,  as 
though  the  mere  fact  of  saying  the  same  thing 
several  times  made  it  much  more  convincing. 

"Next  to  me  is  Madame  Meyer,"  proceeded 
Susie.  "She  was  a  governess  in  Poland,  but  she 
was  much  too  pretty  to  remain  one,  and  now  she 
lives  with  the  landscape  painter  who  is  by  her  side." 

Arthur's  eyes  followed  her  words  and  rested  on  a 
clean-shaven  man  with  a  large  quantity  of  grey, 
curling  hair.  He  had  a  handsome  face  of  a  de- 
liberately aesthetic  type  and  was  very  elegantly 
dressed.  His  manner  and  his  conversation  had  the 
flamboyance  of  the  romantic  thirties.  He  talked 
in  flowing  periods  with  an  air  of  finality,  and  what 
he  said  was  no  less  just  than  obvious.  The  gay 
little  lady  who  shared  his  fortunes  listened  to  his 
wisdom  with  a  profound  admiration  that  plainly 
flattered  him. 

Miss  Boyd  had  described  everyone  to  Arthur 
except  young  Raggles,  who  painted  still  life  with  a 
certain  amount  of  skill,  and  Clayson,  the  American 
sculptor.  Raggles  stood  for  rank  and  fashion  at 
the  Chien  Noir.  He  was  very  smartly  dressed  in 


36  THE  MAGICIAN 

a  horsey  way,  and  he  walked  with  bow-legs,  as 
though  he  spent  most  of  his  time  in  the  saddle.  He 
alone  used  scented  pomade  upon  his  neat  smooth 
hair.  His  chief  distinction  was  a  greatcoat  he  wore, 
with  a  scarlet  lining;  and  Warren,  whose  memory 
for  names  was  defective,  could  only  recall  him  by 
that  peculiarity.  But  it  was  understood  that  he  knew 
duchesses  in  fashionable  streets,  and  occasionally  he 
dined  with  them  in  solemn  splendour. 

Clayson  had  a  vinous  nose  and  a  tedious  habit 
of  saying  brilliant  things.  With  his  twinkling  eyes, 
red  cheeks,  and  fair,  pointed  beard,  he  looked  exactly 
like  a  Franz  Hals;  but  he  was  dressed  like  the  cari- 
cature of  a  Frenchman  in  a  comic  paper.  Ke  spoke 
English  with  a  Parisian  accent. 

Miss  Boyd  was  beginning  to  tear  him  gaily  limb 
from  limb,  when  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  a 
large  person  entered.  He  threw  off  his  cloak  with  a 
dramatic  gesture. 

"Marie,  disembarrass  me  of  this  coat  of  frieze. 
Hang  my  sombrero  upon  a  convenient  peg." 

He  spoke  execrable  French,  but  there  was  a  gran- 
diloquence about  his  vocabulary  which  set  everyone 
laughing.  t 

"Here  is  somebody  I  don't  know,"  said  Susie. 

"But  I  do,  at  least,  by  sight,"  answered  Burdon. 
He  leaned  over  to  Dr.  Porhoet,  who  was  sitting 
opposite,  quietly  eating  his  dinner  and  enjoying  the 
nonsense  which  everyone  talked.  "Is  not  that  your 
magician?" 

"Oliver  Haddo,"  said  Dr.  Porhoet,  with  a  little 
nod  of  amusement. 


THE  MAGICIAN  37 

The  new  arrival  stood  at  the  end  of  the  room 
with  all  eyes  upon  him.  He  threw  himself  into  an 
attitude  of  command  and  remained  for  a  moment 
perfectly  still. 

"You  look  as  if  you  were  posing,  Haddo,"  said 
Warren  huskily. 

"He  couldn't  help  doing  that  if  he  tried,5*  laughed 
Clayson. 

Oliver  Haddo  slowly  turned  his  glance  to  the 
painter. 

"I  grieve  to  see,  oh  most  excellent  Warren,  that 
the  ripe  juice  of  the  aperitif  has  glazed  your  sparkling 
eye." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  I'm  drunk,  sir?" 

"In  one  gross,  but  expressive,  word,  drunk." 

The  painter  grotesquely  flung  himself  back  in  his 
chair  as  though  he  had  been  struck  a  blow,  and 
Haddo  looked  steadily  at  Clayson. 

"How  often  have  I  explained  to  you,  O  Clayson, 
that  your  deplorable  lack  of  education  precludes 
you  from  the  brilliancy  to  which  you  aspire?" 

For  an  instant  Oliver  Haddo  resumed  his  effec- 
tive pose;  and  Susie,  smiling,  looked  at  him.  He 
was  a  man  of  great  size,  two  or  three  inches  more 
than  six  feet  high;  but  the  most  noticeable  thing 
about  him  was  a  vast  obesity.  His  paunch  was  of 
imposing  dimensions.  His  face  was  large  and  fleshy. 
He  had  thrown  himself  into  the  arrogant  attitude  of 
Velasquez's  portrait  of  Del  Borro  in  the  Museum  of 
Berlin;  and  his  countenance  bore  of  set  purpose  the 
same  contemptuous  smile.  He  advanced  and  shook 
hands  with  Dr.  Porhoet. 


38  THE  MAGICIAN 

"Hail,  brother  wizard!     I  greet  in  you,  if  not 
a  master,  at  least  a  student  not  unworthy  of  my 


esteem." 


Susie  was  convulsed  with  laughter  at  his  pom- 
pousness,  and  he  turned  to  her  with  the  utmost 
gravity. 

"Madam,  your  laughter  is  more  soft  in  mine 
ears  than  the  singing  of  Bulbul  in  a  Persian  garden.'* 

Dr.  Porhoet  interposed  with  introductions.  The 
magician  bowed  solemnly  as  he  was  in  turn  made 
known  to  Susie  Boyd,  and  Margaret,  and  Arthur 
Burdon.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  the  grim  Irish 
painter. 

"Well,  my  O'Brien,  have  you  been  mixing  as 
usual  the  waters  of  bitterness  with  the  thin  claret 
of  Bordeaux?" 

"Why  don't  you  sit  down  and  eat  your  dinner?" 
returned  the  other,  gruffly. 

"Ah,  my  dear  fellow,  I  wish  I  could  drive  the 
fact  into  this  head  of  yours  that  rudeness  is  not 
synonymous  with  wit.  I  shall  not  have  lived  in 
vain  if  I  teach  you  in  time  to  realise  that  the  rapier 
of  irony  is  more  effective  an  instrument  than  the 
bludgeon  of  insolence." 

O'Brien  reddened  with  anger,  but  could  not  at 
once  find  a  retort,  and  Haddo  passed  on  to  that 
faded,  harmless  youth  who  sat  next  to  Margaret. 

"Do  my  eyes  deceive  me,  or  is  this  the  Jagson 
whose  name  in  its  inanity  is  so  appropriate  to  the 
bearer?  I  am  eager  to  know  if  you  still  devote 
upon  the  ungrateful  arts  talents  which  were  more 
profitably  employed  upon  haberdashery." 


THE  MAGICIAN  39 

The  unlucky  creature,  thus  brutally  attacked, 
blushed  feebly  without  answering,  and  Haddo  went 
on  to  the  Frenchman,  Meyer,  as  more  worthy  of 
his  mocking. 

"Fm  afraid  my  entrance  interrupted  you  in  a  dis- 
course. Was  it  the  celebrated  harangue  on  the  great- 
ness of  Michael  Angelo,  or  was  it  the  searching 
analysis  of  the  art  of  Wagner?" 

"We  were  just  going,"  said  Meyer,  getting  up 
with  a  frown. 

"I  am  desolated  to  lose  the  pearls  of  wisdom  that 
habitually  fall  from  your  cultivated  lips,"  returned 
Haddo,  as  he  politely  withdrew  Madame  Meyer's 
chair. 

He  sat  down  with  a  smile. 

"I  saw  the  place  was  crowded,  and  with  Napo- 
leonic instinct  decided  that  I  could  only  make  room 
by  insulting  somebody.  It  is  cause  for  congratula- 
tion that  my  gibes,  which  Raggles,  a  foolish  youth, 
mistakes  for  wit,  have  caused  the  disappearance  of 
a  person  who  lives  in  open  sin;  thereby  vacating 
two  seats,  and  allowing  me  to  eat  a  humble  meal 
with  ample  room  for  my  elbows." 

Marie  brought  him  the  bill  of  fare,  and  he  looked 
at  it  gravely. 

"I  will  have  a  vanilla  ioe,  oh  well-beloyed,  and 
the  wing  of  a  tender  chicken,  a  fried  sole,  and  some 
excellent  pea-soup." 

"Bien,  un  potage,  une  sole,  one  chicken,  and  an 
ice." 

"  But  why  should  you  serve  them  in  that  order 
rather  than  in  the  order  I  gave  you  ? " 


40  THE  MAGICIAN 

Marie  and  the  two  Frenchwomen  who  were  still 
in  the  room,  broke  into  exclamations  at  this  extrava- 
gance, but  Oliver  Haddo  waved  his  fat  hand. 

"I  shall  start  with  the  ice,  O  Marie,  to  cool  the 
passion  with  which  your  eyes  inflame  me,  and  then 
without  hesitation  I  will  devour  the  wing  of  a 
chicken  in  order  to  sustain  myself  against  your 
smile.  I  shall  then  proceed  to  a  fresh  sole,  and  with 
the  pea-soup  I  will  finish  a  not  unsustaining  meal." 

Having  succeeded  in  capturing  the  attention  of 
everyone  in  the  room,  Oliver  Haddo  proceeded  to 
eat  these  dishes  in  the  order  he  had  named.  Mar- 
garet and  Burdon  watched  him  with  scornful  eyes, 
but  Susie,  who  was  not  revolted  by  the  vanity  which 
sought  to  attract  notice,  looked  at  him  curiously. 
He  was  clearly  not  old,  though  his  corpulence  added 
to  his  apparent  age.  His  features  were  good,  his 
ears  small,  and  his  nose  delicately  shaped.  He  had 
big  teeth,  but  they  were  white  and  even.  His  mouth 
was  large,  with  heavy,  moist  lips.  He  had  the  neck 
of  a  bullock.  His  dark,  curling  hair  had  retreated 
from  the  forehead  and  temples  in  such  a  way  as  to 
give  his  clean-shaven  face  a  disconcerting  nudity. 
The  baldness  of  his  crown  was  vaguely  like  a  ton- 
sure. He  had  the  look  of  a  very  wicked,  sensual 
priest.  Margaret,  stealing  a  glance  at  him  as  he  ate, 
on  a  sudden  violently  shuddered;  he  affected  her 
with  an  uncontrollable  dislike.  He  lifted  his  eyes 
slowly,  and  she  looked  away,  blushing  as  though 
she  had  been  taken  in  some  indiscretion.  These  eyes 
were  the  most  curious  thing  about  him.  They  were 
not  large,  but  of  an  exceedingly  pale  blue,  and  they 


THE  MAGICIAN  41 

looked  at  you  in  a  way  that  was  singularly  embar- 
rassing. At  first  Susie  could  not  discover  in  what 
precisely  their  peculiarity  lay,  but  in  a  moment  she 
found  out:  the  eyes  of  most  persons  converge  when 
they  look  at  you,  but  Oliver  Haddo's,  naturally  or 
by  a  habit  he  had  acquired  for  effect,  remained 
parallel.  It  gave  the  impression  that  he  looked 
straight  through  you  and  saw  the  wall  beyond.  It 
was  quite  uncanny.  But  another  strange  thing  about 
him  was  the  impossibility  of  telling  whether  he  was 
serious.  There  was  a  mockery  in  that  queer  glance, 
a  sardonic  smile  upon  the  mouth,  which  made  you 
hesitate  how  to  take  his  outrageous  utterances.  It 
was  irritating  to  be  uncertain  whether,  while  you 
were  laughing  at  him,  he  was  not  really  enjoying  an 
elaborate  joke  at  your  expense. 

His  presence  cast  an  unusual  chill  upon  the  party. 
The  French  members  got  up  and  left.  Warren 
reeled  out  with  O'Brien,  whose  uncouth  sarcasms 
were  no  match  for  Haddo's  bitter  gibes.  Raggles 
put  on  his  coat  with  the  scarlet  lining  and  went 
out  with  the  tall  Jagson,  who  smarted  still  under 
Haddo's  insolence.  The  American  sculptor  paid  his 
bill  silently.  When  he  was  at  the  door  Haddo 
stopped  him. 

"You  have  modelled  lions  at  the  Jardin  des 
Plantes,  my  dear  Clayson.  Have  you  ever  hunted 
them  on  their  native  plains?" 

"No,  I  haven't." 

Clayson  did  not  know  why  Haddo  asked  the  ques- 
tion, but  he  bristled  with  incipient  wrath. 

"Then  you  have  not  seen  the  jackals,  gnawing 


42  THE  MAGICIAN 

at  a  dead  antelope,  scamper  away  in  terror  when 
the  King  of  Beasts  stalked  down  to  make  his  meal." 

Clayson  slammed  the  door  behind  him.  Haddo 
was  left  with  Margaret,  and  Arthur  Burdon,  Dr. 
Porhoet,  and  Susie.  He  smiled  quietly. 

"By  the  way,  are  you  a  lion-hunter ? "  asked 
Susie  flippantly. 

He  turned  on  her  his  straight  uncanny  glance. 

"I  have  no  equal  with  big  game.  I  have  shot 
more  lions  than  any  man  alive.  I  think  Jules  Ge- 
rard, whom  the  French  of  the  nineteenth  century 
called  Le  Tueur  de  Lions,  may  have  been  fit  to 
compare  with  me,  but  I  can  call  to  mind  no  other." 

This  statement,  made  with  the  greatest  calm, 
caused  a  moment  of  silence.  Margaret  stared  at  him 
with  amazement. 

"You  suffer  from  no  false  modesty,"  said  Arthur 
Burdon. 

"False  modesty  is  a  sign  of  ill-breeding,  from 
which  my  birth  amply  protects  me." 

Dr.  Porhoet  looked  up  with  a  smile  of  irony. 

"I  wish  Mr.  Haddo  would  take  this  opportunity 
to  disclose  to  us  the  mystery  of  his  birth  and  family. 
I  have  a  suspicion  that,  like  the  immortal  Cagliostro, 
he  was  born  of  unknown  but  noble  parents,  and 
educated  secretly  in  Eastern  palaces." 

"In  my  origin  I  am  more  to  be  compared  with 
Denis  Zachaire  or  with  Raymond  Lully.  My  an- 
cestor, George  Haddo,  came  to  Scotland  in  the  suite 
of  Anne  of  Denmark,  and  when  James  I.,  her  con- 
sort, ascended  the  English  throne,  he  was  granted 
the  estates  in  Staffordshire  which  I  still  possess. 


THE  MAGICIAN  43 

My  family  has  formed  alliances  with  the  most  noble 
blood  of  England,  and  the  Merestons,  the  Parna- 
bys,  the  Hollingtons,  have  been  proud  to  give  their 
daughters  to  my  house." 

"Those  are  facts  which  can  be  verified  in  works 
of  reference,"  said  Arthur  dryly. 

"They  can/'  said  Oliver. 

"And  the  Eastern  palaces  in  which  your  youth 
was  spent,  and  the  black  slaves  who  waited  on  you, 
and  the  bearded  sheikhs  who  imparted  to  you  secret 
knowledge?"  cried  Dr.  Porhoet. 

"I  was  educated  at  Eton,  and  I  left  Oxford  in 
1896." 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  at  what  college  you 
were?"  said  Arthur. 

"I  was  at  the  House." 

"Then  you  must  have  been  there  with  Frank 
Hurrell."  " 

"Now  assistant  physician  at  St.  Luke's  Hospital. 
He  was  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends." 

"I'll  write  and  ask  him  about  you." 

"I'm  dying  to  know  what  you  did  with  all  the 
lions  you  slaughtered,"  said  Susie  Boyd. 

The  man's  effrontery  did  not  exasperate  her  as 
it  obviously  exasperated  Margaret  and  Arthur.  He 
amused  her,  and  she  was  anxious  to  make  him  talk. 

"They  decorate  the  floors  of  Skene,  which  is  the 
name  of  my  place  in  Staffordshire."  He  paused  for 
a  moment  to  light  a  cigar.  "I  am  the  only  man 
alive  who  has  killed  three  lions  with  three  successive 
shots." 

"I  should  have  thought  you  could  have  demol- 


44  THE  MAGICIAN 

ished  them  by  the  effects  of  your  oratory,"  said 
Arthur. 

Oliver  leaned  back  and  placed  his  two  large  hands 
on  the  table. 

"Burkhardt,  a  German  with  whom  I  was  shoot- 
ing, was  down  with  fever  and  could  not  stir  from 
his  bed.  I  was  awakened  one  night  by  the  uneasiness 
of  my  oxen,  and  I  heard  the  roaring  of  lions  close 
at  hand.  I  took  my  carbine  and  came  out  of  my 
tent.  There  was  only  the  meagre  light  of  the  moon. 
I  walked  alone,  for  I  knew  natives  could  be  of  no 
use  to  me.  Presently  I  came  upon  the  carcass  of 
an  antelope,  half-consumed,  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  wait  for  the  return  of  the  lions.  I  hid  myself 
among  the  boulders  twenty  paces  from  the  prey. 
All  about  me  was  the  immensity  of  Africa  and  the 
silence.  I  waited,  motionless,  hour  after  hour,  till 
the  dawn  was  nearly  at  hand.  At  last  three  lions 
appeared  over  a  rock.  I  had  noticed,  the  day  before, 
spoor  of  a  lion  and  two  females." 

"May  I  ask  how  you  could  distinguish  the  sex?" 
asked  Arthur,  incredulously. 

"The  prints  of  a  lion's  fore  feet  are  dispropor- 
tionately larger  than  those  of  the  hind  feet.  The 
fore  feet  and  hind  feet  of  the  lioness  are  nearly  the 


same  size." 


"Pray  go  on,"  said  Susie. 

"They  came  into  full  view,  and  in  the  dim  light, 
as  they  stood  chest  on,  they  appeared  as  huge  as 
the  strange  beasts  of  the  Arabian  tales.  I  aimed 
at  the  lioness  which  stood  nearest  to  me  and  fired. 
Without  a  sound,  like  a  bullock  felled  at  one  blow, 


THE  MAGICIAN  45 

she  dropped.  The  lion  gave  vent  to  a  sonorous 
roar.  Hastily  I  slipped  another  cartridge  in  my 
rifle.  Then  I  became  conscious  that  he  had  seen 
me.  He  lowered  his  head,  and  his  crest  was  erect. 
His  lifted  tail  was  twitching,  his  lips  were  drawn 
back  from  the  red  gums,  and  I  saw  his  great  white 
fangs.  Living  fire  flashed  from  his  eyes,  and  he 
growled  incessantly.  Then  he  advanced  a  few  steps, 
his  head  held  low;  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  mine 
with  a  look  of  rage.  Suddenly  he  jerked  up  his 
tail,  and  when  a  lion  does  this  he  charges.  I  got  a 
quick  sight  of  his  chest  and  fired.  He  reared  up 
on  his  hind  legs,  roaring  loudly  and  clawing  at  the 
air,  fell  back  dead.  One  lioness  remained,  and 
through  the  smoke  I  saw  her  spring  to  her  feet 
and  rush  towards  me.  Escape  was  impossible,  for 
behind  me  were  high  boulders  that  I  could  not 
climb.  She  came  on  with  hoarse,  coughing  grunts, 
and  with  desperate  courage  I  fired  my  remaining 
barrel.  I  missed  her  clean.  I  took  one  step  back- 
wards in  the  hope  of  getting  a  cartridge  into  my 
rifle,  and  fell,  scarcely  two  lengths  in  front  of  the 
furious  beast.  She  missed  me.  I  owed  my  safety 
to  that  fall.  And  then  suddenly  I  found  that  she 
had  collapsed.  I  had  hit  her  after  all.  My  bullet 
went  clean  through  her  heart,  but  the  spring  had 
carried  her  forwards.  When  I  scrambled  to  my  feet 
I  found  that  she  was  dying.  I  walked  back  to  my 
camp  and  ate  a  capital  breakfast." 

Oliver  Haddo's  story  was  received  with  astonished 
silence.  No  one  could  assert  that  it  was  untrue, 
but  he  told  it  with  a  grandiloquence  that  carried  no 


46  THE  MAGICIAN 

conviction.  Arthur  would  have  wagered  a  consider- 
able sum  that  there  was  no  word  of  truth  in  it.  He 
had  never  met  a  person  of  this  kind  before,  and 
could  not  understand  what  pleasure  there  might  be 
in  the  elaborate  invention*  of  improbable  adventures. 

"You  are  evidently  very  brave,"  he  said. 

"To  follow  a  wounded  lion  into  thick  cover  is 
probably  the  most  dangerous  proceeding  in  the 
world,"  said  Haddo  calmly.  "It  calls  for  the  ut- 
most coolness  and  for  iron  nerve." 

The  answer  had  an  odd  effect  on  Arthur.  He 
gave  Haddo  a  rapid  glance,  and  was  seized  suddenly 
with  uncontrollable  laughter.  He  leaned  back  in 
his  chair  and  roared.  His  hilarity  affected  the 
others,  and  they  broke  into  peal  upon  peal  of  laugh- 
ter. Oliver  watched  them  gravely.  He  seemed 
neither  disconcerted  nor  surprised.  When  Arthur 
recovered  himself,  he  found  Haddo's  singular  eyes 
fixed  on  him. 

"Your  laughter  reminds  me  of  the  crackling  of 
thorns  under  a  pot,"  he  said. 

Haddo  looked  round  at  the  others.  Though  his 
gaze  preserved  its  fixity,  his  lips  broke  into  a  queer, 
sardonic  smile. 

"It  must  be  plain  even  to  the  feeblest  intelligence 
that  a  man  can  only  command  the  elementary  spirits 
if  he  is  without  fear.  A  capricious  mind  can  never 
rule  the  sylphs,  nor  a  fickle  disposition  the  undines." 

Arthur  stared  at  him  with  amazement.  He  did 
not  know  what  on  earth  the  man  was  talking  about. 
Haddo  paid  no  heed. 

"But  if  the  adept  is  active,  pliant,  and  strong, 


THE  MAGICIAN  47 

the  whole  world  will  be  at  his  command.  He  will 
pass  through  the  storm  and  no  rain  shall  fall  upon  his 
head.  The  wind  will  not  displace  a  single  fold  of  his 
garment.  He  will  go  through  fire  and  not  be  burned." 

Dr.  Porhoet  ventured  upon  an  explanation  of 
these  cryptic  utterances. 

"These  ladies  are  unacquainted  with  the  mysteri- 
ous beings  of  whom  you  speak,  cher  ami.  They 
should  know  that  during  the  Middle  Ages  imagina- 
tion peopled  the  four  elements  with  intelligences, 
normally  unseen,  some  of  which  were  friendly  to 
man  and  others  hostile.  They  were  thought  to  be 
powerful  and  conscious  of  their  power,  though  at 
the  same  time  they  were  profoundly  aware  that  they 
possessed  no  soul.  Their  life  depended  upon  the 
continuance  of  some  natural  object,  and  hence  for 
them  there  could  be  no  immortality.  They  must  re- 
turn eventually  to  the  abyss  of  unending  night,  and 
the  darkness  of  death  afflicted  them  always.  But  it 
was  thought  that  in  the  same  manner  as  man  by 
his  union  with  God  had  won  a  spark  of  divinity,  so 
might  the  sylphs,  gnomes,  undines,  and  salaman- 
ders, by  an  alliance  with  man  partake  of  his  immor- 
tality. And  many  of  their  women,  whose  beauty 
was  more  than  human,  gained  a  human  soul  by  lov- 
ing one  of  the  race  of  men.  But  the  reverse  oc- 
curred also,  and  often  a  love-sick  youth  lost  his  im- 
mortality because  he  left  the  haunts  of  his  kind  to 
dwell  with  the  fair,  soulless  denizens  of  the  running 
streams  or  of  the  forest  airs." 

"I  didn't  know  that  you  spoke  figuratively,"  said 
Arthur  to  Oliver  Haddo. 


48  THS  MAGICIAN 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"What  else  is  the  world  than  a  figure?  Life  it- 
self is  but  a  symbol.  You  must  be  a  wise  man  if 
you  can  tell  us  what  is  reality." 

"When  you  begin  to  talk  of  magic  and  mysticism 
I  confess  that  I  am  out  of  my  depth." 

"Yet  magic  is  no  more  than  the  art  of  employ- 
ing consciously  invisible  means  to  produce  visible 
effects.  Will,  love,  and  imagination  are  magic  pow- 
ers that  everyone  possesses;  and  whoever  knows  how 
to  develop  them  to  their  fullest  extent  is  a  magician. 
Magic  has  but  one  dogma,  namely,  that  the  seen  is 
the  measure  of  the  unseen." 

"Will  you  tell  us  what  the  powers  are  that  the 
adept  possesses?" 

"They  are  enumerated  in  a  Hebrew  manuscript 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  which  is  in  my  possession. 
The  privileges  of  him  who  holds  in  liis  right  hand 
the  Keys  of  Solomon  and  in  his  left  the  Branch  of 
the  Blossoming  Almond,  are  twenty-one.  He  be- 
holds God  face  to  face  without  dying,  and  converses 
intimately  with  the  Seven  Genii  who  command  the 
celestial  army.  He  is  superior  to  every  affliction 
and  to  every  fear.  He  reigns  with  all  heaven 
and  is  served  by  all  hell.  He  holds  the  secret 
of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  the  key  of 
immortality." 

"If  you  possess  even  these  you  have  evidently 
the  most  varied  attainments,"  said  Arthur  ironically. 

"Everyone  can  make  game  of  the  unknown,"  re- 
torted Haddo,  with  a  shrug  of  his  massive  shoulders. 

Arthur   did   not   answer.     He  looked   at   Haddo 


THE  MAGICIAN  49 

curiously.  He  asked  himself  whether  he  believed 
seriously  these  preposterous  things,  or  whether  he 
was  amusing  himself  in  an  elephantine  way  at  their 
expense.  His  manner  was  earnest,  but  there  was  an 
odd  expression  about  the  mouth,  a  hard  twinkle 
of  the  eyes,  which  seemed  to  belie  it.  Susie  was 
vastly  entertained.  It  diverted  her  enormously  to 
hear  occult  matters  discussed  with  apparent  gravity 
in  this  prosaic  tavern.  Dr.  Porhoet  broke  the  silence. 

"Arago,  after  whom  has  been  named  a  neighbour- 
ing boulevard,  declared  that  doubt  was  a  proof  of 
modesty,  which  has  rarely  interfered  with  the  prog- 
ress of  science.  But  one  cannot  say  the  same  of 
incredulity,  and  he  that  uses  the  word  impossible 
outside  of  pure  mathematics  is  lacking  in  prudence. 
It  should  be  remembered  that  Lactantius  proclaimed 
belief  in  the  existence  of  antipodes  inane,  and  Saint 
Augustine  of  Hippo  added  that  in  any  case  there 
could  be  no  question  of  inhabited  lands." 

"That  sounds  as  if  you  were  not  quite  sceptical, 
dear  doctor,"  said  Miss  Boyd. 

"In  my  youth  I  believed  nothing,  for  science  had 
taught  me  to  distrust  even  the  evidence  of  my  five 
senses,"  he  replied,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 
"But  I  have  seen  many  things  in  the  East  which 
are  inexplicable  by  the  known  processes  of  science. 
Mr.  Haddo  has  given  y6u  one  definition  of  magic, 
and  I  will  give  you  another.  It  may  be  described 
merely  as  the  intelligent  utilisation  of  forces  which 
are  unknown,  contemned,  or  misunderstood  of  the 
vulgar.  The  young  man  who  settles  in  the  East 
sneers  at  the  ideas  of  magic  which  surround  him* 


50  THE  MAGICIAN 

but  I  know  not  what  there  is  in  the  atmosphere  that 
saps  his  unbelief.  When  he  has  sojourned  for  some 
years  among  Orientals,  he  comes  insensibly  to  share 
the  opinion  of  many  sensible  men  that  perhaps  there 
is  something  in  it  after  all." 

Arthur  Burdon  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"I  cannot  imagine  that  however  much  I  lived  in 
Eastern  countries,  I  could  believe  anything  that  had 
the  whole  weight  of  science  against  it.  If  there  were 
a  word  of  truth  in  anything  Haddo  says,  we  should 
be  unable  to  form  any  reasonable  theory  of  the 
universe." 

"For  a  scientific  man  you  argue  with  singular 
fatuity,"  said  Haddo  icily,  and  his  manner  had  an 
offensiveness  which  was  intensely  irritating.  "You 
should  be  aware  that  science,  dealing  only  with  the 
general,  leaves  out  of  consideration  the  individual 
cases  that  contradict  the  enormous  majority.  Oc- 
casionally the  heart  is  on  the  right  side  of  the  body, 
but  you  would  not  on  that  account  ever  put  your 
stethoscope  in  any  other  than  the  usual  spot.  It  is 
possible  that  under  certain  conditions  the  law  of 
gravity  does  not  apply,  yet  you  will  conduct  your 
life  under  the  conviction  that  it  does  so  invariably. 
Now,  there  are  some  of  us  who  choose  to  deal  only 
with  these  exceptions  to  the  common  run.  The  dull 
man  who  plays  at  Monte  Carlo  puts  his  money  on 
the  colours,  and  generally  black  or  red  turns  up;  but 
now  and  then  zero  appears,  and  then  he  loses.  But 
we,  who  have  backed  zero  all  the  time,  win  many 
times  our  stake.  Here  and  there  you  will  find  men 
whose  imagination  raises  them  above  the  humdrum 


THE  MAGICIAN  51 

of  mankind.  They  are  willing  to  lose  their  all  if 
only  they  have  chance  of  a  great  prize.  Is  it  nothing 
not  only  to  know  the  future,  as  did  the  prophets  of 
old,  but  by  making  it  to  force  the  very  gates  of  the 
unknown  ?" 

Suddenly  the  bantering  gravity  with  which  he 
spoke  fell  away  from  him.  A  singular  light  came 
into  his  eyes,  and  his  voice  was  hoarse.  Now  at 
last  they  saw  that  he  was  serious. 

"What  should  you  know  of  that  lust  for  great 
secrets  which  consumes  me  to  the  bottom  of  my 
soul!" 

"Anyhow,  I'm  perfectly  delighted  to  meet  a  ma- 
gician," cried  Susie  gaily. 

"Ah,  call  me  not  that,"  he  said,  with  a  flourish 
of  his  fat  hands,  regaining  immediately  his  porten- 
tous flippancy.  "I  would  be  known  rather  as  the 
Brother  of  the  Shadow." 

"I  should  have  thought  you  could  be  only  a  very 
distant  relation  of  anything  so  unsubstantial,"  said 
Arthur,  with  a  laugh. 

Oliver's  face  turned  red  with  furious  anger.  His 
strange  blue  eyes  grew  cold  with  hatred,  and  he 
thrust  out  his  scarlet  lips  till  he  had  the  ruthless 
expression  of  a  Nero.  The  gibe  at  his  obesity  had 
caught  him  on  the  raw.  Susie  feared  that  he  would 
make  so  insulting  a  reply  that  a  quarrel  must  ensue. 

"Well,  really,  if  we  want  to  go  to  the  fair  we 
must  start,"  she  said  quickly.  "And  Marie  is  dying 
to  be  rid  of  us." 

They  got  up,  and  clattered  down  the  stairs  into 
the  street. 


Chapter  IV 

THEY  came  down  to  the  busy,  narrow  street 
which  led  into  the  Boulevard  du  Montparnasse. 
Electric  trams  passed  through  it  with  harsh  ringing 
of  bells,  and  people  surged  along  the  pavements. 

The  fair  to  which  they  were  going  was  held  at  the 
Lion  de  Belfort,  not  more  than  a  mile  away,  and 
Arthur  hailed  a  cab.  Susie  told  the  driver  where 
they  wanted  to  be  set  down.  She  noticed  that 
Haddo,  who  was  waiting  for  them  to  start,  put  his 
hand  on  the  horse's  neck.  On  a  sudden,  for  no 
apparent  reason,  it  began  violently  to  tremble.  The 
trembling  passed  through  the  body  and  down  its 
limbs  till  it  shook  from  head  to  foot  as  though  it 
had  the  staggers.  The  coachman  jumped  off  his 
box  and  held  the  wretched  creature's  head.  Mar- 
garet and  Susie  got  out  of  the  carriage.  It  was  a 
horribly  painful  sight.  The  horse  seemed  not  to 
suffer  from  actual  pain,  but  from  an  extraordinary 
fear.  Though  she  knew  not  why  an  idea  came  to  Susie. 

"Take  your  hand  away,  Mr.  Haddo/5  she  said 
sharply. 

He  smiled,  and  did  as  she  bade  him.  At  the 
same  moment  the  trembling  began  to  decrease,  and 
in  a  moment  the  poor  old  cab-horse  was  in  its  usual 
state.  It  seemed  a  little  frightened  still,  but  other- 
wise recovered. 

52 


THE  MAGICIAN  53 

"I  wonder  what  the  deuce  was  the  matter  with 
it,"  said  Arthur. 

Oliver  Haddo  looked  at  him  with  the  blue  eyes 
that  seemed  to  see  right  through  people,  and  then, 
lifting  his  hat,  walked  away.  Susie  turned  suddenly 
to  Dr.  Porhoet. 

"Do  you  think  he  could  make  the  horse  do  that? 
It  came  immediately  he  put  his  hand  on  its  neck 
and  it  stopped  as  soon  as  he  took  it  away." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Arthur. 

"It  occurred  to  me  that  he  was  playing  some 
trick,"  said  Dr.  Porhoet  gravely.  "An  odd  thing 
happened  once  when  he  came  to  see  me.  I  have 
two  Persian  cats,  which  are  the  most  properly  con- 
ducted of  all  their  tribe.  They  spend  their  days  in 
front  of  my  fire,  meditating  on  the  problems  of 
metaphysics.  But  as  soon  as  he  came  in  they 
started  up  and  their  fur  stood  right  on  end.  Then 
they  began  to  run  madly  round  and  round  the  room, 
as  though  the  victims  of  uncontrollable  terror.  I 
opened  the  door,  and  they  bolted  out.  I  have  never 
been  able  to  understand  exactly  what  took  place." 

Margaret  shuddered. 

"I've  never  met  a  man  who  filled  me  with  such 
loathing,"  she  said.  "I  don't  know  what  there  is 
about  him  that  frightens  me.  Even  now  I  feel  his 
eyes  fixed  strangely  upon  me.  I  hope  I  shall  never 
see  him  again."  , 

Arthur  gave  a  little  laugh  and  pressed  her  hand. 
She  would  not  let  his  go,  and  he  felt  that  she  was 
trembling.  Personally  he  had  no  doubt  about  the 
matter.  He  would  have  no  trifling  with  credibility. 


54  THE  MAGICIAN 

Either  Haddo  believed  things  that  none  but  a  luna- 
tic could,  or  else  he  was  a  charlatan  who  sought  to 
attract  attention  by  his  extravagances.  In  any  case 
he  was  contemptible.  It  was  certain,  at  all  events, 
that  neither  he  nor  anyone  else  could  work  miracles. 

'Til  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  Arthur.  "If  he 
really  knows  Frank  Hurrell  I'll  find  out  all  about 
him.  I'll  drop  a  note  to  Hurrell  to-night  and  ask 
him  to  tell  me  anything  he  can." 

"I  wish  you  would/*  answered  Susie,  "because 
he  interests  me  enormously.  There's  no  place  like 
Paris  for  meeting  queer  folk.  Sooner  or  later 
you  run  across  persons  who  believe  in  everything. 
There's  no  form  of  religion,  there's  no  eccentricity 
or  enormity,  that  hasn't  its  votaries.  Just  think 
what  a  privilege  it  is  to  come  upon  a  man  in  the 
twentieth  century  who  honestly  believes  in  the 
occult." 

"Since  I  have  been  occupied  with  these  matters 
I  have  come  across  strange  people,"  said  Dr.  Por- 
hoet  quietly,  "but  I  agree  with  Miss  Boyd  that 
Oliver  Haddo  is  the  most  extraordinary.  For  one 
thing  it  is  impossible  to  know  how  much  he  really 
believes  what  he  says.  Is  he  an  impostor  or  a  mad- 
man ?  Does  he  deceive  himself,  or  is  he  laughing  up 
his  sleeve  at  the  folly  of  those  who  take  him  seri- 
ously? I  cannot  tell.  All  I  know  is  that  he  has 
travelled  widely  and  is  acquainted  with  many 
tongues.  He  has  a  minute  knowledge  of  alchemical 
literature,  and  there  is  no  book  I  have  heard  of, 
dealing  with  the  black  arts,  which  he  does  not  seem 
to  know."  Dr.  Porhoet  shook  his  head  slowly.  "I 


THE  MAGICIAN  55 

should  not  care  to  dogmatise  about  this  man.  I 
know  I  shall  outrage  the  feelings  of  my  friend  Arthur, 
but  I  am  bound  to  confess  it  would  not  surprise  me 
to  learn  that  he  possessed  powers  by  which  he  was 
able  to  do  things  seemingly  miraculous/' 

Arthur  was  prevented  from  answering  by  their 
arrival  at  the  Lion  de  Belfort. 

The  fair  was  in  full  swing.  The  noise  was  deaf- 
ening. Steam  bands  thundered  out  the  popular 
tunes  of  the  moment,  and  to  their  din  merry-go- 
rounds  were  turning.  At  the  door  of  booths  men 
vociferously  importuned  the  passers-by  to  enter. 
From  the  shooting  saloons  came  a  continual  spatter 
of  toy  rifles.  Linking  up  these  sounds  were  the 
voices  of  the  serried  crowd  that  surged  along  the 
central  avenue,  and  the  shuffle  of  their  myriad  feet. 
The  night  was  lurid  with  acetylene  torches,  which 
flamed  with  a  dull  unceasing  roar.  It  was  a  curious 
sight,  half  gay,  half  sordid.  The  throng  seemed 
bent  with  a  kind  of  savagery  upon  amusement,  as 
though,  resentful  of  the  weary  round  of  daily  labour, 
it  sought  by  a  desperate  effort  to  be  merry. 

The  English  party  with  Dr.  Porhoet,  mildly 
ironic,  had  scarcely  entered  before  they  were  joined 
by  Oliver  Haddo.  He  was  indifferent  to  the  plain 
fact  that  they  did  not  want  his  company.  He  at- 
tracted attention,  for  his  appearance  and  his  manner 
were  remarkable,  and  Susie  noticed  that  he  was 
pleased  to  see  people  point  him  out  to  one  another. 
He  wore  a  Spanish  cloak,  the  capa,  and  he  flung  the 
red  and  green  velvet  of  its  lining  gaudily  over  his 
shoulder.  He  had  a  large  soft  hat.  His  height  was 


56  THE  MAGICIAN 

great,  though  less  noticeable  on  account  of  his 
obesity,  and  he  towered  over  the  puny  multitude. 

They  looked  idly  at  the  various  shows,  resisting 
the  melodramas,  the  circuses,  the  exhibitions  of  ec- 
centricity, which  loudly  clamoured  for  their  custom. 
Presently  they  came  to  a  man  who  was  cutting  sil- 
houettes in  black  paper,  and  Haddo  insisted  on 
posing  for  him.  A  little  crowd  collected  and  did  not 
spare  their  jokes  at  his  singular  appearance.  He 
threw  himself  into  his  favourite  attitude  of  proud 
command.  Margaret  wished  to  take  the  oppor- 
tunity of  leaving  him,  but  Miss  Boyd  insisted  on 
staying. 

"He's  the  most  ridiculous  creature  Fve  ever  seen 
in  my  life,"  she  whispered.  "I  wouldn't  let  him  out 
of  my  sight  for  worlds." 

When  the  silhouette  was  done  he  presented  it  with 
a  low  bow  to  Margaret. 

"I  implore  your  acceptance  of  the  only  portrait 
now  in  existence  of  Oliver  Haddo,"  he  said. 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered,  frigidly. 

She  was  unwilling  to  take  it,  but  had  not  the 
presence  of  mind  to  put  him  off  by  a  jest,  and  would 
not  be  frankly  rude.  As  though  certain  she  set 
much  store  on  it,  he  placed  it  carefully  in  an  envelope. 
They  walked  on  and  suddenly  came  to  a  canvas  booth 
on  which  was  an  Eastern  name.  *  Roughly  painted 
on  sail-cloth  was  a  picture  of  an  Arab  charming 
snakes,  and  above  were  certain  words  in  Arabic. 
At  the  entrance  a  native  sat  cross-legged,  listlessly 
beating  a  drum.  When  he  saw  them  stop,  he  ad- 
dressed them  in  bad  French. 


THE  MAGICIAN  57 

"Does  not  this  remind  you  of  the  turbid  Nile, 
Dr.  Porhoet?"  said  Haddo.  "Let  us  go  in  and  see 
what  the  fellow  has  to  show/* 

Dr.  Porhoet  stepped  forward  and  addressed  the 
charmer,  who  brightened  on  hearing  the  language 
of  his  own  country. 

"He  is  an  Egyptian  from  Assiut,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"I  will  buy  tickets  for  you  all,"  said  Haddo. 

He  held  up  the  flap  that  gave  access  to  the  booth, 
and  Susie  went  in.  Margaret  and  Arthur  Burdon, 
somewhat  against  their  will,  were  obliged  to  follow. 
The  native  closed  the  opening  behind  them.  They 
found  themselves  in  a  dirty  little  tent,  ill-lit  by  two 
smoking  lamps;  a  dozen  stools  were  placed  in  a 
circle  on  the  bare  ground.  In  one  corner  sat  a  fellah 
woman,  motionless,  in  ample  robes  of  dingy  black. 
Her  face  was  hidden  by  a  long  veil,  which  was  held 
in  place  by  a  queer  ornament  of  brass  in  the  middle 
of  the  forehead,  between  the  eyes.  These  alone 
were  visible,  large  and  sombre,  and  the  lashes  were 
darkened  with  kohl:  her  fingers  were  brightly  stained 
with  henna.  She  moved  slightly  as  the  visitors 
entered,  and  the  man  gave  her  his  drum.  She  began 
to  rub  it  with  her  hands,  curiously,  and  made  a 
droning  sound,  which  was  odd  and  mysterious. 
There  was  a  peculiar  odour  in  the  place,  so  that 
Dr.  Porhoet  was  for  a  moment  transported  to  the 
evil-smelling  streets  of  Cairo.  It  was  an  acrid 
mixture  of  incense,  of  attar  of  roses,  with  every 
imaginable  putrescence.  It  choked  the  two  women, 
and  Susie  asked  for  a  cigarette.  The  native  grinned 


58  THE  MAGICIAN 

when  he  heard  the  English  tongue.  He  showed  a 
row  of  sparkling  and  beautiful  teeth. 

"My  name  Mohammed,"  he  said.  "Me  show 
serpents  to  Sirdar  Lord  Kitchener.  Wait  and  see. 
Serpents  very  poisonous." 

He  was  dressed  in  a  long  blue  gabardine,  more 
suited  to  the  sunny  banks  of  the  Nile  than  to  a  fair 
in  Paris,  and  its  colour  could  hardly  be  seen  for 
dirt.  On  his  head  was  the  national  tarboosh. 

A  rug  lay  at  one  side  of  the  tent,  and  from  under 
it  he  took  a  goatskin  sack.  He  placed  it  on  the 
ground  in  the  middle  of  the  circle  formed  by  the 
seats,  and  crouched  down  on  his  haunches.  Mar- 
garet shuddered,  for  the  uneven  surface  of  the  sack 
moved  strangely.  He  opened  the  mouth  of  it.  The 
woman  in  the  corner  listlessly  droned  away  on  the 
drum,  and  occasionally  uttered  a  barbaric  cry.  With 
a  leer  and  a  flash  of  his  bright  teeth,  the  Arab  thrust 
his  hand  into  the  sack  and  rummaged  as  a  man 
would  rummage  in  a  sack  of  corn.  He  drew  out  a 
long,  writhing  snake.  He  placed  it  on  the  ground 
and  for  a  moment  waited,  then  he  passed  his  hand 
over  it:  it  became  immediately  as  rigid  as  a  bar  of 
iron.  Except  that  the  eyes,  the  cruel  eyes,  were 
open  still  there  might  have  been  no  life  in  it. 

"Look,"  said  Haddo.  "That  is  the  miracle  which 
Moses  did  before  Pharaoh." 

Then  the  Arab  took  a  reed  instrument,  not  unlike 
the  pipe  which  Pan  in  the  hills  of  Greece  played  to 
the  dryads,  and  he  piped  a  weird,  monotonous  tune. 
The  stiffness  broke  away  from  the  snake  suddenly, 
and  it  lifted  its  head  and  raised  its  long  body  till 


THE  MAGICIAN  59 

it  stood  almost  on  the  tip  of  its  tail,  and  it  swayed 
slowly  to  and  fro. 

Oliver  Haddo  seemed  extraordinarily  fascinated. 
He  leaned  forward  with  eager  face,  and  his  un- 
natural eyes  were  fixed  on  the  charmer  with  an  in- 
describable expression.  Margaret  drew  back  in 
terror. 

"You  need  not  be  frightened,"  said  Arthur. 
"These  people  only  work  with  animals  whose  fangs 
have  been  extracted." 

Oliver  Haddo  looked  at  him  before  answering. 
He  seemed  to  consider  each  time  what  sort  of  man 
this  was  to  whom  he  spoke. 

"A  man  is  only  a  snake-charmer  because,  with- 
out recourse  to  medicine,  he  is  proof  against  the 
fangs  of  the  most  venomous  serpents." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  said  Arthur. 

"I  saw  the  most  noted  charmer  of  Madras  die 
two  hours  after  he  had  been  bitten  by  a  cobra,"  said 
Haddo.  "I  had  heard  many  tales  of  his  prowess, 
and  one  evening  asked  a  friend  to  take  me  to  him. 
He  was  out  when  we  arrived,  but  we  waited,  and 
presently,  accompanied  by  some  friends,  he  came. 
We  told  him  what  we  wanted.  He  had  been  at  a 
marriage-feast  and  was  drunk.  But  he  sent  for  his 
snakes,  and  forthwith  showed  us  marvels  which  this 
man  has  never  heard  of.  At  last  he  took  a  great 
cobra  from  his  sack  and  began  to  handle  it.  Sud- 
denly it  darted  at  his  chin  and  bit  him.  It  made 
two  marks  like  pin-points.  The  juggler  started 
back. 

"'I  am  a  dead  man/  he  said. 


60  THE  MAGICIAN 

"Those  about  him  would  have  killed  the  cobra, 
but  he  prevented  them. 

"Let  the  creature  live,'  he  said.  'It  may  be  of 
service  to  others  of  my  trade.  To  me  it  can  be  of 
no  other  use.  Nothing  can  save  me.' 

"His  friends  and  the  jugglers,  his  fellows,  gath- 
ered round  him  and  placed  him  in  a  chair.  In  two 
hours  he  was  dead.  In  his  drunkenness  he  had  for- 
gotten a  portion  of  the  spell  which  protected  him, 
and  so  he  died." 

"You  have  a  marvellous  collection  of  tall  stories," 
said  Arthur.  "I'm  afraid  I  should  want  better 
proof  that  these  particular  snakes  are  poisonous." 

Oliver  turned  to  the  charmer  and  spoke  to  him  in 
Arabic.  Then  he  answered  Arthur. 

"The  man  has  a  horned  viper,  cerastes  is  the 
name  under  which  you  gentlemen  of  science  know 
it,  and  it  is  the  most  deadly  of  all  Egyptian  snakes. 
It  is  commonly  known  as  Cleopatra's  Asp,  for  that 
is  the  serpent  which  was  brought  in  a  basket  of  figs 
to  the  paramour  of  Caesar  in  order  that  she  might 
not  endure  the  triumph  of  Augustus." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Susie. 

He  smiled,  but  did  not  answer.  He  stepped  for- 
ward to  the  centre  of  the  tent  and  fell  on  his  knees. 
He  uttered  Arabic  words,  which  Dr.  Porhoet  trans- 
lated to  the  others: 

"O  viper,  I  adjure  you  by  the  great  God  who  is 
all  powerful,  to  come  forth.  You  are  but  a  snake, 
and  God  is  greater  than  all  snakes.  Obey  my  call 
and  come." 

A  tremor  went  through  the  goatskin  bag,  and  in 


THE  MAGICIAN  61 

a  moment  a  head  was  protruded.  A  lithe  body 
wriggled  out.  It  was  a  snake  of  a  light  grey  colour,' 
and  over  each  eye  was  a  horn.  It  lay  slightly  curled. 

"Do  you  recognise  it?"  said  Oliver  in  a  low  voice 
to  the  doctor. 

"I  do." 

The  charmer  sat  motionless,  and  the  woman  in 
the  dim  background  ceased  her  weird  rubbing  of 
the  drum.  Haddo  seized  the  snake  and  opened  its 
mouth.  Immediately  it  fastened  on  his  hand,  and 
the  reptile  teeth  went  deep  into  his  flesh.  Arthur 
watched  him  for  signs  of  pain,  but  he  did  not  wince. 
The  writhing  snake  dangled  from  his  hand.  He 
repeated  a  sentence  in  Arabic,  and,  with  the  pecu- 
liar suddenness  of  a  drop  of  water  falling  from  a 
roof,  the  snake  fell  to  the  ground.  The  blood 
flowed  freely.  Haddo  spat  upon  the  bleeding  place 
three  times,  muttering  words  they  could  not  hear, 
and  three  times  he  rubbed  the  wound  with  his  fingers. 
The  bleeding  stopped  entirely.  He  stretched  out  his 
hand  for  Arthur  to  look  at. 

"That  surely  is  what  a  surgeon  would  call  healing 
by  first  intention,"  he  said. 

Burdon  was  astonished,  but  he  was  irritated,  too, 
and  would  not  allow  that  there  was  anything  strange 
in  the  cessation  of  the  flowing  blood. 

"You  haven't  yet  shown  that  the  snake  was 
poisonous." 

"I  have  not  finished  yet,"  smiled  Haddo. 

He  spoke  again  to  the  Egyptian,  who  gave  an 
order  to  his  wife.  Without  a  word  she  rose  to  her 
feet  and  from  a  box  took  a  white  rabbit.  She  lifted 


62  THE  MAGICIAN 

it  up  by  the  ears,  and  it  struggled  with  its  four 
quaint  legs.  Haddo  put  it  in  front  of  the  horned 
viper.  Before  anyone  could  have  moved,  the  snake 
darted  forward,  apd  like  a  flash  of  lightning  struck 
the  rabbit.  The  wretched  little  beast  gave  a  slight 
scream,  a  shudder  went  through  it,  and  it  fell  dead. 

Margaret  sprang  up  with  a  cry. 

"Oh,  how  cruel!    How  hatefully  cruel!5* 

"Are  you  convinced  now?"  asked  Haddo  coolly. 

The  two  women  hurried  to  the  doorway.  They 
were  frightened  and  disgusted.  Oliver  Haddo  was 
left  alone  with  the  snake-charmer. 


Chapter  V 

DOCTOR  PORHOET  had  asked  Arthur  to  bring 
Margaret  and  Miss  Boyd  to  see  him  on  Sun- 
day at  his  apartment  in  the  lie  Saint  Louis;  and  the 
lovers  arranged  to  spend  an  hour  on  their  way  at 
the  Louvre.  Susie,  invited  to  accompany  them,  pre- 
ferred independence  and  her  own  reflections. 

To  avoid  the  crowd  which  throngs  the  picture 
galleries  on  holidays,  they  went  to  that  part  of  the 
museum  where  ancient  sculpture  is  kept.  It  was 
comparatively  empty,  and  the  long  halls  had  the 
singular  restfulness  of  places  where  works  of  art 
are  gathered  together.  Margaret  was  filled  with  a 
genuine  emotion;  and  though  she  could  not  analyse 
it  as  Susie,  who  loved  to  dissect  her  state  of  mind, 
would  have  done,  it  strangely  exhilarated  her.  Her 
heart  was  uplifted  from  the  sordidness  of  earth,  and 
she  had  a  sensation  of  freedom  which  was  as  delight- 
ful as  it  was  indescribable.  Arthur  had  never 
troubled  himself  with  art  till  Margaret's  enthusiasm 
taught  him  that  there  was  a  side  of  life  he  did  not 
realise.  Though  beauty  meant  little  to  his  practical 
nature,  he  sought,  in  his  great  love  for  Margaret,  to 
appreciate  the  works  which  excited  her  to  such 
charming  ecstasy.  He  walked  by  her  side  with 
docility  and  listened,  not  without  deference,  to  her 
outbursts.  He  admired  the  correctness  of  Greek 

68 


64  THE  MAGICIAN 

anatomy,  and  there  was  one  statue  of  an  athlete 
which  attracted  his  prolonged  attention,  because  the 
muscles  were  indicated  with  the  precision  of  a  plate 
in  a  surgical  text-book.  When  Margaret  talked  of 
the  Greeks'  divine  repose  and  of  their  blitheness,  he 
thought  it  very  clever  because  she  said  it;  but  in  a 
man  it  would  have  aroused  his  impatience. 

Yet  there  was  one  piece,  the  charming  statue 
known  as  La  Diane  de  Gabies,  which  moved  him 
differently,  and  to  this  presently  he  insisted  on  going. 
With  a  laugh  Margaret  remonstrated,  but  secretly 
she  was  not  displeased.  She  was  aware  that  his 
passion  for  this  figure  was  due,  not  to  its  intrinsic 
beauty,  but  to  a  likeness  he  had  discovered  in  it  to 
herself. 

It  stood  in  that  fair  wide  gallery  where  is  the 
mocking  faun,  with  his  inhuman  savour  of  fellow- 
ship with  the  earth  which  is  divine,  and  the  sight- 
less Homer.  The  goddess  had  not  the  arrogance  of 
the  huntress  who  loved  Endymion,  nor  the  majesty 
of  the  cold  mistress  of  the  skies.  She  was  in  the 
likeness  of  a  young  girl,  and  with  collected  gesture 
fastened  her  cloak.  There  was  nothing  divine  in 
her  save  a  sweet  strange  spirit  of  virginity.  A  lover 
in  ancient  Greece,  who  offered  sacrifice  before  this 
fair  image,  might  forget  easily  that  it  was  a  goddess 
to  whom  he  knelt,  and  see  only  an  earthly  maid 
all  fresh  with  youth  and  chastity  and  loveliness.  In 
Arthur's  eyes  Margaret  had  all  the  exquisite  grace 
of  that  statue,  and  the  same  unconscious  composure; 
and  in  her  also  breathed  the  spring  odours  of  ineffable 
purity.  Her  features  were  chiselled  with  the  clear 


THE  MAGICIAN  65 

and  divine  perfection  of  this  Greek  girl's;  her  ears 
were  as  delicate  and  as  finely  wrought.  The  colour 
of  her  skin  was  so  tender  that  it  reminded  you 
vaguely  of  all  beautiful  soft  things,  the  radiancy  of 
sunset  and  the  darkness  of  the  night,  the  heart  of 
roses  and  the  depth  of  running  water.  The  god- 
dess's hand  was  raised  to  her  right  shoulder,  and 
Margaret's  hand  was  as  small,  as  dainty,  and  as 
white. 

"Don't  be  so  foolish,"  said  she,  as  Arthur  looked 
silently  at  the  statue. 

He  turned  his  eyes  slowly,  and  they  rested  upon 
her.  She  saw  that  they  were  veiled  with  tears. 

"What  on  earth's  the  matter?" 

"I  wish  you  weren't  so  beautiful,"  he  answered 
awkwardly,  as  though  he  could  scarcely  bring  him- 
self to  say  such  foolish  things.  "I'm  so  afraid  that 
something  will  happen  to  prevent  us  from  being 
happy.  It  seems  too  much  to  expect  that  I  should 
enjoy  such  extraordinary  good  luck." 

She  had  the  imagination  to  see  that  it  meant 
much  for  the  practical  man  so  to  express  himself. 
Love  of  her  drew  him  out  of  his  character,  and, 
though  he  could  not  resist,  he  resented  the  effect  it 
had  on  him.  She  found  nothing  to  reply,  but  she 
took  his  hand. 

"Everything  has  gone  pretty  well  with  me  so 
far,"  he  said,  speaking  almost  to  himself.  "When- 
ever I've  really  wanted  anything,  I've  managed  to 
get  it.  I  don't  see  why  things  should  go  against 
me  now." 

He  was  trying  to  reassure  himself  against  an  in- 


66  THE  MAGICIAN 

stinctive  suspicion  of  the  malice  of  circumstances. 
But  he  shook  himself  and  straightened  his  back. 

"It's  stupid  to  be  so  morbid  as  that,"  he  muttered. 

Margaret  laughed.  They  walked  out  of  the  gal- 
lery and  turned  to  the  quay.  By  crossing  the  bridge 
and  following  the  river,  they  must  come  eventually 
to  Dr.  Porhoet's  house. 

Meanwhile  Susie  wandered  down  the  Boulevard 
Saint  Michel,  alert  with  the  Sunday  crowd,  to  that 
part  of  Paris  which  was  dearest  to  her  heart.  L'tle 
Saint  Louis  to  her  mind  offered  a  synthesis  of  the 
French  spirit,  and  it  pleased  her  far  more  than  the 
garish  boulevards  in  which  the  English  as  a  rule 
seek  for  the  country's  fascination.  Its  position  on 
an  island  in  the  Sfeine  gave  it  a  compact  charm. 
The  narrow  streets,  with  their  array  of  dainty  com- 
estibles, had  the  look  of  streets  in  a  provincial  town. 
They  had  a  quaintness  which  appealed  to  the  fancy 
and  they  were  very  restful.  The  names  of  the  streets 
recalled  the  monarchy  that  passed  away  in  blood- 
shed, and  in  poudre  de  riz.  The  very  plane-trees  had 
a  greater  sobriety  than  elsewhere,  as  though  con- 
scious they  stood  in  a  Paris  where  progress  was  not. 
In  front  was  the  turbid  Seine,  and  below,  the  twin 
lovers  of  Notre-Dame.  Susie  could  have  kissed  the 
hard  paving  stones  of  the  quay.  Her  good-natured, 
plain  face  lit  up  as  she  realised  the  delight  of  the 
scene  upon  which  her  eyes  rested;  and  it  was  with 
a  little  pang,  her  mind  aglow  with  characters  and 
events  from  history,  and  from  fiction,  that  she  turned 
away  to  enter  Dr.  Porhoet's  house. 


THE  MAGICIAN  67 

She  was  pleased  that  the  approach  did  not  clash 
with  her  fantasies.  She  mounted  a  broad  staircase, 
dark  but  roomy,  and  at  the  command  of  the  concierge, 
rang  a  tinkling  bell  at  one  of  the  doorways  that 
faced  her.  Dr.  Porhoet  opened  in  person. 

"Arthur  and  Mademoiselle  are  already  here,"  he 
said,  as  he  led  her  in. 

They  went  through  a  prim  French  dining-room, 
with  much  woodwork  and  heavy  scarlet  hangings, 
to  the  library.  This  was  a  large  room,  but  the 
bookcases  that  lined  the  walls,  and  a  large  writing- 
table  heaped  up  with  books,  much  diminished  its 
size.  There  were  books  everywhere.  They  were 
stacked  on  the  floor  and  piled  on  every  chair.  There 
was  hardly  space  to  move.  Susie  gave  a  cry  of 
delight. 

"Now  you  mustn't  talk  to  me.  I  want  to  look 
at  all  your  books." 

"You  could  not  please  me  more,"  said  Dr.  Por- 
hoet, "but  I  am  afraid  they  will  disappoint  you. 
They  are  of  many  sorts,  but  I  fear  there  are  few 
that  will  interest  an  English  young  lady." 

He  looked  about  his  writing-table  till  he  found  a 
packet  of  cigarettes.  He  gravely  offered  one  to  each 
of  his  guests.  Susie  was  enchanted  with  the  strange 
musty  smell  of  the  old  books,  and  she  took  a  first 
glance  at  them  in  general.  For  the  most  part  they 
were  in  paper  bindings,  some  of  them  neat  enough, 
but  more  with  broken  backs  and  dingy  edges;  they 
were  set  along  the  shelves  in  serried  rows,  untidily, 
without  method  or  plan.  There  were  many  older 
ones  also  in  bindings  of  calf  and  pigskin,  treasure 


68  THE  MAGICIAN 

from  half  the  bookshops  in  Europe;  and  there  were 
huge  folios  like  Prussian  grenadiers;  and  tiny  Elze- 
virs, which  had  been  read  by  patrician  ladies  in 
Venice.  Just  as  Arthur  was  a  different  man  in  the 
operating  theatre,  Dr.  Porhoet  was  changed  among 
his  books.  Though  he  preserved  the  amiable 
serenity  which  made  him  always  so  attractive,  he 
had  there  a  diverting  brusqueness  of  demeanour, 
which  contrasted  quaintly  with  his  usual  calm. 

"I  was  telling  these  young  people,  when  you  came 
in,  of  an  ancient  Koran  which  I  was  given  in  Alex- 
andria by  a  learned  man  whom  I  operated  upon  for 
cataract."  He  showed  her  a  beautifully-written 
Arabic  work,  with  wonderful  capitals  and  head- 
lines in  gold.  "You  know  that  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible for  an  infidel  to  acquire  the  holy  book,  and  this 
is  a  particularly  rare  copy,  for  it  was  written  by 
Kait  Bey,  the  greatest  of  the  Mameluke  Sultans/' 

He  handled  the  delicate  pages  as  a  lover  of  flowers 
would  handle  rose-leaves. 

"And  have  you  much  literature  on  the  occult 
sciences?"  asked  Susie. 

Dr.  Porhoet  smiled. 

"I  venture  to  think  that  no  private  library  con- 
tains so  complete  a  collection,  but  I  dare  not  show 
it  to  you  in  the  presence  of  our  friend  Arthur.  He 
is  too  polite  to  accuse  me  of  foolishness,  but  his 
sarcastic  smile  would  betray  him." 

Susie  went  to  the  shelves  to  which  he  vaguely 
waved,  and  looked  with  a  peculiar  excitement  at 
the  mysterious  array.  She  ran  her  eyes  along  the 
names.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  entering  upon 


THE  MAGICIAN  69 

an  unknown  region  of  romance.  She  felt  like  an 
adventurous  princess  who  rode  on  her  palfrey  into 
a  forest  of  great  bare  trees  and  mystic  silences, 
where  wan,  unearthly  shapes  pressed  upon  her  way. 

"I  thought  once  of  writing  a  life  of  that  fantas- 
tic and  grandiloquent  creature,  Philippus  Aureolus 
Theophrastus  Paracelsus  Bombast  von  Hohenheim," 
said  Dr.  Porhoet,  "and  I  have  collected  many  of  his 
books." 

He  took  down  a  slim  volume  in  duodecimo,  printed 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  with  queer  plates,  on 
which  were  all  manner  of  cabalistic  signs.  The 
pages  had  a  peculiar,  mucty  odour.  They  were 
stained  with  iron-mould. 

"Here  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  works  con- 
cerning the  black  art.  It  :s  the  Grimoire  of  Hono- 
riujy  and  is  the  principal  text-book  of  all  those  who 
deal  in  the  darkest  ways  of  the  science." 

Then  he  pointed  out  the  Hexameron  of  Torque- 
mad  a  and  the  Tableau  de  VInconstance  des  Demons, 
by  Delancre;  he  drew  his  finger  down  the  leather 
back  of  Delrio's  Disquisitiones  Magic  cz  and  set  up- 
right the  Pseudomonarchia  Dczmonorum  of  Wierus; 
his  eyes  rested  for  an  instant  on  Hauber's  Ada  et 
Scripta  Magica,  and  he  blew  the  dust  carefully  off 
the  most  famous,  the  most  infamous,  of  them  all, 
Sprenger's  Malleus  Maleficorum. 

"Here  is  one  of  my  greatest  treasures.  It  is  the 
Clavicula  Salomonis;  and  I  have  much  reason  to 
believe  that  it  is  the  identical  copy  which  belonged 
to  the  greatest  adventurer  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
Jacques  Casanova.  You  will  see  that  the  owner's 


70  THE  MAGICIAN 

name  has  been  cut  out,  but  enough  remains  to  indi- 
cate the  bottom  of  the  letters;  and  these  correspond 
exactly  with  the  signature  of  Casanova  which  I  have 
found  at  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale.  He  relates 
in  his  memoirs  that  a  copy  of  this  book  was  seized 
among  his  effects  when  he  was  arrested  in  Venice 
for  traffic  in  the  black  arts;  and  it  was  there, 
on  one  of  my  journeys  from  Alexandria,  that  I 
picked  it  up." 

He  replaced  the  precious  work,  and  his  eye  fell 
on  a  stout  volume  bound  in  vellum. 

"I  had  almost  forgotten  the  most  wonderful,  the 
most  mysterious,  of  all  the  books  that  treat  of  occult 
science.  You  have  heard  of  the  Kabbalah,  but  I 
doubt  if  it  is  more  than  a  name  to  you." 

"I  know  nothing  about  it  at  all,"  laughed  Susie, 
"except  that  it's  all  very  romantic  and  extraor- 
dinary and  ridiculous." 

"This,  then,  is  its  history.  Moses,  who  was 
learned  in  all  the  wisdom  of  Egypt,  was  first  initi- 
ated into  the  Kabbalah  in  the  land  of  his  birth;  but 
became  most  proficient  in  it  during  his  wanderings 
in  the  wilderness.  Here  he  not  only  devoted  the 
leisure  hours  of  forty  years  to  this  mysterious 
science,  but  received  lessons  in  it  from  an  obliging 
angel.  By  aid  of  it  he  was  able  to  solve  the  diffi- 
culties which  arose  during  his  management  of  the 
Israelites,  notwithstanding  the  pilgrimages,  wars, 
and  miseries  of  that  most  unruly  nation.  He  cov- 
ertly laid  down  the  principles  of  the  doctrine  in  the 
first  four  books  of  the  Pentateuch,  but  withheld 
them  from  Deuteronomy.  Moses  also  initiated  the 


THE  MAGICIAN  71 

seventy  Elders  into  these  secrets,  and  they  in  turn 
transmitted  them  from  hand  to  hand.  Of  all  who 
formed  the  unbroken  line  of  tradition,  David  and 
Solomon  were  the  most  deeply  learned  in  the  Kab- 
balah. No  one,  however,  dared  to  write  it  down 
till  Schimeon  ben  Jochai,  who  lived  in  the  time  of 
the  destruction  of  Jerusalem;  and  after  his  death 
the  Rabbi  Eleazar,  his  son,  and  the  Rabbi  Abba, 
his  secretary,  collected  his  manuscripts  and  from 
them  composed  the  celebrated  treatise  called  Zohar." 

"And  how  much  do  you  believe  of  this  marvel- 
lous story?"  asked  Arthur  Burdon. 

"Not  a  word,"  answered  Dr.  Porhoet,  with  a 
smile.  "Criticism  has  shown  that  Zohar  is  of  mod- 
ern origin.  With  singular  effrontery  it  cites  an 
author  who  is  known  to  have  lived  during  the 
eleventh  century,  mentions  the  crusades,  and  records 
events  which  occurred  in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1264. 
It  was  some  time  before  1291  that  copies  of  Zohar 
began  to  be  circulated  by  a  Spanish  Jew  named 
Moses  de  Leon,  who  claimed  to  possess  an  auto- 
graph manuscript  by  the  reputed  author  Schimeon 
ben  Jochai.  But  when  Moses  de  Leon  was  gathered 
to  the  bosom  of  his  father  Abraham,  a  wealthy  He- 
brew, Joseph  de  Avila,  promised  the  scribe's  widow, 
who  had  been  left  destitute,  that  his  son  should 
marry  her  daughter,  to  whom  he  would  pay  a  hand- 
some dowry,  if  she  would  give  him  the  original 
manuscript  from  which  these  copies  were  made. 
But  the  widow  (one  can  imagine  with  what  gnash- 
ing of  teeth)  was  obliged  to  confess  that  she  had 
no  such  manuscript,  for  Moses  de  Leon  had  com- 


72  THE  MAGICIAN 

posed  Zohar  out  of  his  own  head,  and  written  it 
with  his  own  right  hand." 

Arthur  got  up  to  stretch  his  legs.  He  gave  a 
laugh. 

"I  never  know  how  much  you  really  believe  of 
all  these  things  you  tell  us.  You  speak  with  such 
gravity  that  we  are  all  taken  in,  and  then  it  turns 
out  that  you've  been  laughing  at  us." 

"My  dear  friend,  I  never  know  myself  how  much 
I  believe,"  returned  Dr.  Porhoet. 

"I  wonder  if  it  is  for  the  same  reason  that  Mr. 
Haddo  puzzles  us  so  much,"  said  Susie. 

"Ah,  there  you  have  a  case  that  is  really  inter- 
esting," replied  the  doctor.  "I  assure  you  that, 
though  I  know  him  fairly  intimately,  I  have  never 
been  able  to  make  up  my  mind  whether  he  is  an 
elaborate  practical  joker,  or  whether  he  is  really 
convinced  that  he  has  the  wonderful  powers  to 
which  he  lays  claim." 

"We  certainly  saw  things  last  night  that  were 
not  quite  normal,"  said  Susie.  "Why  had  that 
serpent  no  effect  on  him  though  it  was  able  to  kill 
the  rabbit  instantaneously?  And  how  are  you  going 
to  explain  the  violent  trembling  of  that  horse, 
Mr.  Burdon?" 

"I  can't  explain  it,"  answered  Arthur,  irritably, 
"but  I'm  not  inclined  to  attribute  to  the  super- 
natural everything  that  I  can't  immediately  under- 
stand." 

"I  don't  know  what  there  is  about  him  that  ex- 
cites in  me  a  sort  of  horror,"  said  Margaret.  "I've 
never  taken  such  a  sudden  dislike  to  anyone." 


THE  MAGICIAN  73 

She  was  too  reticent  to  say  all  she  felt,  but  she 
had  been  strangely  affected  last  night  by  the  recol- 
lection of  Haddo's  words  and  of  his  acts.  She  had 
awaked  more  than  once  from  a  nightmare  in  which 
he  assumed  fantastic  and  ghastly  shapes.  His 
mocking  voice  rang  in  her  ears,  and  she  seemed  still 
to  see  that  vast  bulk  and  the  savage,  sensual  face. 
It  was  like  a  spirit  of  evil  in  her  path,  and  she  was 
curiously  alarmed.  Only  her  reliance  on  Arthur's 
common-sense  prevented  her  from  giving  way  to 
ridiculous  terrors. 

"I've  written  to  Frank  Hurrell  and  asked  him 
to  tell  me  all  he  knows  about  him,"  said  Arthur. 
"I  should  get  an  answer  very  soon." 

"I  wish  we'd  never  come  across  him,"  cried  Mar- 
garet vehemently.  "I  feel  that  he  will  bring  us 
misfortune." 

"You're  all  of  you  absurdly  prejudiced,"  an- 
swered Susie  gaily.  "He  interests  me  enormously, 
and  I  mean  to  asik  him  to  tea  at  the  studio." 

"I'm  sure  I  shall  be  delighted  to  come." 

Margaret  cried  out,  for  she  recognised  Oliver 
Haddo's  deep  bantering  tones;  and  she  turned 
round  quickly.  They  were  all  so  taken  aback  that 
for  a  moment  no  one  spoke.  They  were  gathered 
round  the  window  and  had  not  heard  him  come  in. 
They  wondered  guiltily  how  long  he  had  been  there 
and  how  much  he  had  heard. 

"How  on  earth  did  you  get  here?"  cried  Susie 
lightly,  recovering  herself  first. 

"No  well-bred  sorcerer  is  so  dead  to  the  finer 
feelings  as  to  enter  a  room  by  the  door,"  he  an-* 


74  THE  MAGICIAN 

swered,  with  his  puzzling  smile.  "You  were  stand- 
ing round  the  window,  and  I  thought  it  would 
startle  you  if  I  chose  that  mode  of  ingress,  so  I 
descended  with  incredible  skill  down  the  chimney." 

"I  see  a  little  soot  on  your  left  elbow,"  returned 
Susie.  "I  hope  you  weren't  at  all  burned." 

"Not  at  all,  thanks,"  he  answered,  gravely  brush- 
ing his  coat. 

"In  whatever  way  you  came  you  are  very  wel- 
come," said  Dr.  Porhoet,  genially  holding  out  his 
hand. 

But  Arthur  impatiently  turned  to  his  host. 

"I  wish  I  knew  what  made  you  engage  upon  these 
studies,"  he  said.  "I  should  have  thought  your 
medical  profession  protected  you  from  any  tender- 
ness towards  superstition." 

Dr.  Porhoet  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  have  always  been  interested  in  the  oddities  of 
mankind.  At  one  time  I  read  a  good  deal  of  philos- 
ophy and  a  good  deal  of  science,  and  I  learned  in 
that  way  that  nothing  was  certain.  Some  people, 
by  the  pursuit  of  science,  are  impressed  with  the 
dignity  of  man,  but  I  was  only  made  conscious  of 
his  insignificance.  The  greatest  questions  of  all 
have  been  threshed  out  since  he  acquired  the  begin- 
nings of  civilisation  and  he  is  as  far  from  a  solution 
as  ever.  Man  can  know  nothing,  for  his  senses 
are  his  only  means  of  knowledge,  and  they  can  give 
no  certainty.  There  is  only  one  subject  upon  which 
the  individual  can  speak  with  authority,  and  that 
is  his  own  mind,  but  even  here  he  is  surrounded 
with  darkness.  I  believe  that  he  shall  always  be 


THE  MAGICIAN  75 

ignorant  of  the  matters  which  it  most  behooves  us 
to  know,  and  therefore  I  cannot  occupy  myself  with 
them.  I  prefer  to  set  them  all  aside,  and,  since 
knowledge  is  unattainable,  to  occupy  myself  only 
with  folly." 

"It  is  a  point  of  view  I  do  not  sympathise  with," 
said  Arthur. 

"Yet  I  cannot  be  sure  that  it  is  all  folly,"  pur- 
sued the  Frenchman  reflectively.  He  looked  at 
Arthur  with  a  certain  ironic  gravity.  "Do  you  be- 
lieve that  I  should  lie  to  you  when  I  promised  to 
speak  the  truth?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"I  should  like  to  tell  you  of  an  experience  that  I 
once  had  in  Alexandria.  So  far  as  I  can  see,  it 
can  be  explained  by  none  of  the  principles  known 
to  science.  I  ask  you  only  to  believe  that  I  am 
not  consciously  deceiving  you." 

He  spoke  with  a  seriousness  which  gave  authority 
to  his  words.  It  was  plain,  even  to  Arthur,  that 
he  narrated  the  event  exactly  as  it  occurred. 

"I  had  heard  frequently  of  a  certain  sheikh  who 
was  able  by  means  of  a  magic  mirror  to  show  the 
inquirer  persons  who  were  absent  or  dead,  and  a 
native  friend  of  mine  had  often  begged  me  to  see 
him.  I  had  never  thought  it  worth  while,  but  at 
last  a  time  came  when  I  was  greatly  troubled  in 
my  mind.  My  poor  mother  was  an  old  woman,  a 
widow,  and  I  had  received  no  news  of  her  for  many 
weeks.  Though  I  wrote  repeatedly,  no  answer 
reached  me.  I  was  very  anxious  and  very  unhappy. 
I  thought  no  harm  could  come  if  I  sent  for  the 


76  THE  MAGICIAN 

sorcerer,  and  perhaps  after  all  he  had  the  power 
which  was  attributed  to  him.  My  friend,  who  was 
interpreter  to  the  French  Consulate,  brought  him  to 
me  one  evening.  He  was  a  fine  man,  tall  and  stout, 
of  a  fair  complexion,  but  with  a  dark  brown  beard. 
He  was  shabbily  dressed,  and,  being  a  descendant 
of  the  Prophet,  wore  a  green  turban.  In  his  con- 
versation he  was  affable  and  unaffected.  I  asked 
him  what  persons  could  see  in  the  magic  mirror, 
and  he  said  they  were  a  boy  not  arrived  at  puberty, 
a  virgin,  a  black  female  slave,  and  a  pregnant 
woman.  In  order  to  make  sure  that  there  was  no 
collusion,  I  despatched  my  servant  to  an  intimate 
friend  and  asked  him  to  send  me  his  son.  While 
we  waited  I  prepared  by  the  magician's  direction 
frankincense  and  coriander-seed,  and  a  chafing-dish 
with  live  charcoal.  Meanwhile  he  wrote  forms  of 
invocation  on  six  strips  of  paper.  When  the  boy 
arrived,  the  sorcerer  threw  incense  and  one  of  the 
paper  strips  into  the  chafing-dish,  then  took  the  boy's 
right  hand  and  drew  a  square  and  certain  mystical 
marks  on  the  palm.  In  the  centre  of  the  square 
he  poured  a  little  ink.  This  formed  the  magic  mir- 
ror. He  desired  the  boy  to  look  steadily  into  it 
without  raising  his  head.  The  fumes  of  the  incense 
filled  the  room  with  smoke.  The  sorcerer  muttered 
Arabic  words,  indistinctly,  and  this  he  continued  to  do 
all  the  time  except  when  he  asked  the  boy  a  question. 

"Do  you  see  anything  in  the  ink?'  he  said. 

"No/  the  boy  answered. 

"But  a  minute  later  he  began  to  tremble  and 
seemed  very  much  frightened. 


THE  MAGICIAN  77 

"'I  see  a  man  sweeping  the  ground/  he  said. 

"'When  he  has  done  sweeping,  tell  me/  said  the 
sheikh. 

"'He  has  done/  said  the  boy. 

"The  sorcerer  turned  to  me  and  asked  who  it 
was  that  I  wished  the  boy  should  see. 

"'I  desire  him  to  see  the  widow  Jeanne-Marie 
Porhoet/ 

"The  magician  put  the  second  and  third  of  the 
small  strips  of  paper  into  the  chafing-dish,  and  fresh 
frankincense  was  added.  The  fumes  were  painful 
to  my  eyes.  The  boy  began  to  speak. 

"'I  see  an  old  woman  lying  on  a  bed.  She  has 
a  black  dress,  and  on  her  head  is  a  little  white  cap. 
She  has  a  wrinkled  face  and  her  eyes  are  closed. 
There  is  a  band  tied  round  her  chin.  The  bed  is  in 
a  sort  of  hole,  in  the  wall,  and  there  are  shutters 
to  it/ 

"The  boy  was  describing  a  Breton  bed,  and  the 
white  cap  was  the  coiffe  that  my  mother  wore.  And 
if  she  lay  there  in  her  black  dress,  with  a  band  about 
her  chin,  I  knew  that  it  could  mean  but  one  thing. 

"'What  else  does  he  see?'  I  asked  the  sorcerer. 

"He  repeated  my  question,  and  presently  the  boy 
spoke  again. 

"I  see  four  men  come  in  with  a  long  box.  And 
there  are  women  crying.  They  all  wear  little  white 
caps  and  black  dresses.  And  I  see  a  man  in  a  white 
surplice,  with  a  large  cross  in  his  hands,  and  a  little 
boy  in  a  long  red  gown.  And  the  men  take  off  their 
hats.  And  now  everyone  is  kneeling  down/5 

"'I  will  hear  no  more/  I  said.    'It  is  enough/ 


78  THE  MAGICIAN 

"I  knew  that  my  mother  was  dead. 

"In  a  little  while  I  received  a  letter  from  the 
priest  of  the  village  in  which  she  lived.  They  had 
buried  her  on  the  very  day  upon  which  the  boy  had 
seen  this  sight  in  the  mirror  of  ink." 

Dr.  Porhoet  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes,  and 
for  a  little  while  there  was  silence. 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  that?"  asked  Oliver 
Haddo,  at  last. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Arthur. 

Haddo  looked  at  him  for  a  minute  with  those 
queer  eyes  of  his  which  seemed  to  stare  at  the  wall 
behind. 

"Have  you  ever  heard  of  Eliphas  Levi?"  he  in- 
quired. "He  is  the  most  celebrated  occultist  of 
recent  years.  He  is  thought  to  have  known  more 
of  the  mysteries  than  any  adept  since  the  divine 
Paracelsus." 

"I  met  him  once,"  interrupted  Dr.  Porhoet. 
"You  never  saw  a  man  who  looked  less  like  a  ma- 
gician. His  face  beamed  with  good-nature,  and  he 
wore  a  long  grey  beard,  which  covered  nearly  the 
whole  of  his  breast.  He  was  of  a  short  and  very 
corpulent  figure." 

"The  practice  of  black  arts  evidently  disposes  to 
obesity,"  said  Arthur,  icily. 

Susie  noticed  that  this  time  Oliver  Haddo  made 
no  sign  that  the  taunt  moved  him.  His  unwink- 
ing, straight  eyes  remained  upon  Arthur  without 
expression. 

"Levi's  real  name  was  Alphonse-Louis  Constant, 
but  he  adopted  that  under  which  he  is  generally 


THE  MAGICIAN  79 

known  for  reasons  that  are  plain  to  the  romantic 
mind.  His  father  was  a  boot-maker.  He  was  des- 
tined for  the  priesthood,  but  fell  in  love  with  a 
damsel  fair  and  married  her.  The  union  was  un- 
happy. A  fate  befell  him  which  has  been  the  lot  of 
greater  men  than  he,  and  his  wife  presently  aban- 
doned the  marital  roof  with  her  lover.  To  console 
himself  he  began  to  make  serious  researches  in  the 
occult,  and  in  due  course  published  a  vast  number 
of  mystical  works  dealing  with  magic  in  all  its 
branches." 

"I'm  sure  Mr.  Haddo  was  going  to  tell  us  some- 
thing very  interesting  about  him,"  said  Susie. 

"  I  wished  merely  to  give  you  his  account  of  how  he 
raised  the  spirit  of  Apollonius  of  Tyana  in  London." 

Susie  settled  herself  more  comfortably  in  her 
chair  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

"He  went  there  in  the  spring  of  1856  to  escape 
from  internal  disquietude  and  to  devote  himself 
without  distraction  to  his  studies.  He  had  letters 
of  introduction  to  various  persons  of  distinction, 
who  concerned  themselves  with  the  supernatural, 
but,  finding  them  trivial  and  indifferent,  he  im- 
mersed himself  in  the  study  of  the  supreme  Kab- 
balah. One  day,  on  returning  to  his  hotel,  he  found 
a  note  in  his  room.  It  enclosed  half  a  card,  trans- 
versely divided,  on  which  he  at  once  recognised  the 
character  of  Solomon's  Seal;  and  also  a  tiny  slip 
of  paper  on  which  was  written  in  pencil:  The  other 
half  of  this  card  will  be  given  you  at  three  o'clock  to- 
morrow in  front  of  Westminster  Abbey.  Next  day, 
going  to  the  appointed  spot,  with  his  portion  of  the 


80  THE  MAGICIAN 

card  in  his  hand,  he  found  a  baronial  equipage 
waiting  for  him.  A  footman  approached,  and,  mak- 
ing a  sign  to  him,  opened  the  carriage  door.  Within 
was  a  lady  in  black  satin,  whose  face  was  concealed 
by  a  thick  veil.  She  motioned  him  to  a  seat  beside 
her,  and  at  the  same  time  displayed  the  other  part 
of  the  card  he  had  received.  The  door  was  shut,  and 
the  carriage  rolled  away.  When  the  lady  raised  her 
veil,  Eliphas  Levi  saw  that  she  was  of  mature  age; 
and  beneath  her  grey  eyebrows  were  bright  black 
eyes  of  preternatural  fixity." 

Susie  Boyd  clapped  her  hands  with  delight. 

"I  think  it's  delicious,  and  I'm  sure  every  word 
of  it  is  true,"  she  cried.  "I'm  enchanted  with  the 
mysterious  meeting  at  Westminster  Abbey  in  the 
Middle  Victorian  era.  Can't  you  see  the  elderly 
lady  in  a  huge  crinoline  and  a  black  poke  bonnet,  and 
the  wizard  in  a  ridiculous  tall  hat,  a  bottle-green 
frock-coat,  and  a  flowing  tie  of  black  silk?" 

"Eliphas  remarks  that  the  lady  spoke  French 
with  a  marked  English  accent,"  pursued  Haddo  im- 
perturably.  "She  addressed  him  as  follows:  'Sir, 
I  am  aware  that  the  law  of  secrecy  is  rigorous 
among  adepts;  and  I  know  that  you  have  been 
asked  for  phenomena,  but  have  declined  to  gratify 
a  frivolous  curiosity.  It  is  possible  that  you  do  not 
possess  the  necessary  materials.  I  can  show  you  a 
complete  magical  cabinet,  but  I  must  require  of  you 
first  the  most  inviolable  silence.  If  you  do  not 
guarantee  this  on  your  honour,  I  will  give  order  for 
you  to  be  driven  home." 

Oliver  Haddo  told  his  story  not  ineffectively,  but 


THE  MAGICIAN  81 

with  a  comic  gravity  that  prevented  one  from  know- 
ing exactly  how  to  take  it. 

"Having  given  the  required  promise,  Eliphas 
Levi  was  shown  a  collection  of  vestments  and  of 
magical  instruments.  The  lady  lent  him  certain 
books  of  which  he  was  in  need;  and  at  last,  as  a 
result  of  many  conversations,  determined  him  to 
attempt  at  her  house  the  experience  of  a  complete 
evocation.  He  prepared  himself  for  twenty-one 
days,  scrupulously  observing  the  rules  laid  down 
by  the  Ritual.  At  length  everything  was  ready.  It 
was  proposed  to  call  forth  the  phantom  of  the  di- 
vine Apollonius,  and  to  question  it  upon  two  mat- 
ters, one  of  which  concerned  Eliphas  Levi  and  the 
other  the  lady  of  the  crinoline.  She  had  at  first 
counted  on  assisting  at  the  evocation  with  a  trust- 
worthy person,  but  at  the  last  moment  her  friend 
drew  back;  and  as  the  triad  or  unity  is  rigorously 
prescribed  in  magical  rites,  Eliphas  was  left  alone. 
The  cabinet  prepared  for  the  experiment  was  situ- 
ated in  a  turret.  Four  concave  mirrors  were  hung 
within  it,  and  there  was  an  altar  of  white  marble, 
surrounded  by  a  chain  of  magnetic  iron.  f  On  it  was 
engraved  the  sign  of  the  Pentagram,  and  this  sym- 
bol was  drawn  on  the  new,  white  sheepskin  which 
was  stretched  beneath.  A  copper  brazier  stood  on 
the  altar  with  charcoal  of  alder  and  of  laurel  wood, 
and  in  front  a  second  brazier  was  placed  upon  a 
tripod.  ^Eliphas  Levi  was  clothed  in  a  white  robe, 
longer  and  more  ample  than  the  surplice  of  a  priest, 
and  he  wore  upon  his  head  a  chaplet  of  vervain 
leaves  entwined  about  a  golden  chain.  In  one 


82  THE  MAGICIAN 

hand  he  held  a  new  sword  and  in  the  other  the 
Ritual." 

Susie's  passion  for  caricature  at  once  asserted 
itself,  and  she  laughed  as  she  saw  in  fancy  the 
portly  little  Frenchman,  with  his  round,  red  face, 
thus  wonderfully  attired. 

"He  set  alight  the  two  fires  with  the  prepared 
materials,  and  began,  at  first  in  a  low  voice,  but 
rising  by  degrees,  the  invocations  of  the  Ritual. 
The  flames  invested  every  object  with  a  wavering 
light.  Presently  they  went  out.  He  set  more  twigs 
and  perfumes  on  the  brazier,  and  when  the  flame 
started  up  once  more,  he  saw  distinctly  before  the 
altar  a  human  figure  larger  than  life,  which  dis- 
solved and  disappeared.  He  began  the  invocations 
again  and  placed  himself  in  a  circle,  which  he  had 
already  traced  between  the  altar  and  the  tripod. 
Then  the  depth  of  the  mirror  which  was  in  front 
of  him  grew  brighter  by  degrees,  and  a  pale  form 
arose,  and  it  seemed  gradually  to  approach.  He 
closed  his  eyes,  and  called  three  times  upon  Apol- 
lonius.  When  he  opened  them  a  man  stood  before 
him,  wholly  enveloped  in  a  winding  sheet,  which 
seemed  more  grey  than  black.  His  form  was  lean, 
melancholy,  and  beardless.  Eliphas  felt  an  intense 
cold,  and  when  he  sought  to  ask  his  questions 
found  it  impossible  to  speak.  Thereupon  he  placed 
his  hand  on  the  Pentagram,  and  directed  the  point 
of  his  sword  towards  the  figure,  adjuring  it  mentally 
by  that  sign  not  to  terrify,  but  to  obey  him.  The 
form  suddenly  grew  indistinct  and  soon  it  strangely 
vanished.  He  commanded  it  to  return,  and  then 


THE  MAGICIAN  83 

felt,  as  it  were,  an  air  pass  by  him;  and,  something 
having  touched  the  hand  which  held  the  sword,  his 
arm  was  immediately  benumbed  as  far  as  the  shoul- 
der. He  supposed  that  the  weapon  displeased  the 
spirit,  and  set  it  down  within  the  circle.  The  hu- 
man figure  at  once  reappeared,  but  Eliphas  experi- 
enced such  a  sudden  exhaustion  in  all  his  limbs 
that  he  was  obliged  to  sit  down.  He  fell  into  a  deep 
coma,  and  dreamed  strange  dreams.  But  of  these, 
when  he  recovered,  only  a  vague  memory  remained 
to  him.  His  arm  continued  for  several  days  to  be 
numb  and  painful.  The  figure  had  not  spoken,  but 
it  seemed  to  Eliphas  Levi  that  the  questions  were 
answered  in  his  own  mind.  For  to  each  an  inner 
voice  replied  with  one  grim  word :  dead/' 

"Your  friend  seems  to  have  had  as  little  fear  of 
spooks  as  you  have  of  lions,"  said  Burdon.,  "To 
my  thinking  it  is  plain  that  all  these  preparations, 
and  the  perfumes,  the  mirrors,  the  'pentagrams, 
must  have  the  greatest  effect  on  .the  imagination. 
MyC  only  surprise  is  that  your  haagician  saw  .no 
more." 

"Eliphas  Levi  talked  to  me  himself  of  his^evoca- 
tion,"  said  Dr.  Porhoet.  "He  told  me  that  its  in- 
fluence on  him  was  very"  great.  He  was  no  longer 
the  same  man,  for  it  seemed  to  him  that  some- 
thing from  the  world  beyond  had  passed  into  his 
soul" 

"I  am  astonished  that  you  should  never  have 
tried  such  an  interesting  experiment  yourself,"  said 
Arthur  to  Oliver  Haddo. 

"I    have,"    answered    the    other   calmly.     "My 


84  THE  MAGICIAN 

father  lost  his  power  of  speech  shortly  before  he 
died,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  sought  with  all  his 
might  to  tell  me  something.  A  year  after  his  death 
I  called  up  his  phantom  from  the  grave  so  that  I 
might  learn  what  I  took  to  be  a  dying  wish.  The 
circumstances  of  the  apparition  are  so  similar  to 
those  I  have  just  told  you  that  it  would  only  bore 
you  if  I  repeated  them.  The  only  difference  was 
that  my  father  actually  spoke." 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Susie. 

"He  said  solemnly:  'Buy  Ashantis,  they  are  bound 
to  go  up.'  I  did  £s  he  told  me;  but  my  father  was 
always  unlucky  in  speculation,  and  they  went  down 
steadily.  I  sold  put  at  considerable  loss,  and  con- 
cluded that  in  the  world  beyond  they  are  as  ignorant 
of  the  tendency  of  the  Stock  Exchange  as  we  are 
in  this  vale  of  sorrow." 

Susie  could  not  help  laughing.  But  Arthur 
shrugged  his-  shoulders  impatiently.  It  disturbed 
his  practical  mind  never  to  be  certain  if  Haddo  was 
serious,  or  if,  as  now,  he  was  plainly  making  game 
of  them. 


Chapter  VI 

TWO  days  later  Arthur  received  Frank  Hurrell's 
answer  to  his  note.  It  was  characteristic  of 
Frank  that  he  should  take  such  pains  to  reply  at 
length  to  the  inquiry,  and  it  was  clear  that  he  had 
lost  none  of  his  old  interest  in  odd  personalities.  He 
analysed  Oliver  Haddo's  character  with  the  patience 
of  a  scientific  man  studying  a  new  species  in  which 
he  is  passionately  concerned. 


DEAR  BURDON: 
"It  is  singular  that  you  should  write  just  now  to 
ask  what  I  know  of  Oliver  Haddo,  since  by  chance 
I  met  the  other  night  at  dinner  at  Queen  Anne's 
Gate  a  man  who  had  much  to  tell  me  of  him.  I  am 
curious  to  know  why  he  excites  your  interest,  for 
I  am  sure  his  peculiarities  make  him  repugnant  to  a 
person  of  your  robust  common-sense.  I  can  with 
difficulty  imagine  two  men  less  capable  of  getting  on 
together.  Though  I  have  not  seen  Haddo  now  for 
years,  I  can  tell  you,  in  one  way  and  another,  a 
good  deal  about  him.  He  erred  when  he  described 
me  as  his  intimate  friend.  It  is  true  that  at  one  time 
I  saw  much  of  him,  but  I  never  ceased  cordially  to 
dislike  him.  He  came  up  to  Oxford  from  Eton  with 
a  reputation  for  athletics  and  eccentricity.  But 
you  know  that  there  is  nothing  that  arouses  the  ill- 

85 


86  THE  MAGICIAN 

will  of  boys  more  than  the  latter,  and  he  achieved 
an  unpopularity  which  was  remarkable.  It  turned 
out  that  he  played  football  admirably,  and  except 
for  his  rather  scornful  indolence  he  might  easily 
have  got  his  blue.  He  sneered  at  the  popular  en- 
thusiasm for  games,  and  was  used  to  say  that  cricket 
was  all  very  well  for  boys,  but  not  fit  for  the  pas- 
time of  men.  (He  was  then  eighteen!)  He  talked 
grandiloquently  of  big-game  shooting  and  of  moun- 
tain climbing  as  sports  which  demanded  courage 
and  self-reliance.  He  seemed,  indeed,  to  like  foot- 
ball, but  he  played  it  with  a  brutal  savagery  which 
the  other  persons  concerned  naturally  resented.  It 
became  current  opinion  in  other  pursuits  that  he  did 
not  play  the  game.  He  did  nothing  that  was  mani- 
festly unfair,  but  was  capable  of  taking  advantages 
which  most  people  would  have  thought  mean;  and 
he  made  defeat  more  hard  to  bear  because  he  ex- 
ulted over  the  vanquished  with  the  coarse  banter 
that  youths  find  so  difficult  to  endure. 

"What  you  would  hardly  believe  is  that,  when 
he  first  came  up,  he  was  a  person  of  great  physical 
attractions.  He  is  now  grown  fat,  but  in  those  days 
was  extremely  handsome.  He  reminded  one  of 
those  colossal  statues  of  Apollo  in  which  the  god  is 
represented  with  a  feminine  roundness  and  delicacy. 
He  was  very  tall  and  had  a  magnificent  figure.  It 
was  so  well-formed  for  his  age  that  one  might  have 
foretold  his  precocious  corpulence.  He  held  himself 
with  a  dashing  erectness.  Many  called  it  an  inso- 
lent swagger.  His  features  were  regular  and  fine. 
He  had  a  great  quantity  of  curling  hair,  which  was 


THE  MAGICIAN  87 

worn  long,  with  a  sort  of  poetic  grace:  I  am  told 
that  now  he  is  very  bald;  and  I  can  imagine  that 
this  must  be  a  great  blow  to  him,  for  he  was  always 
exceedingly  vain.  I  remember  a  peculiarity  of  his 
eyes,  which  could  scarcely  have  been  natural,  but 
how  it  was  acquired  I  do  not  know.  The  eyes  of 
most  people  converge  upon  the  object  at  which 
they  look,  but  his  remained  parallel.  It  gave  them 
a  singular  expression,  as  though  he  were  scrutinis- 
ing the  inmost  thought  of  the  person  with  whom 
he  talked.  He  was  notorious  also  for  the  extrava- 
gance of  his  costume,  but,  unlike  the  aesthetes  of 
that  day,  who  clothed  themselves  with  artistic  care- 
lessness, he  had  a  taste  for  outrageous  colours. 
Sometimes,  by  a  queer  freak,  he  dressed  himself  at 
unseasonable  moments  with  excessive  formality. 
He  is  the  only  undergraduate  I  have  ever  seen  walk 
down  the  High  in  a  tall  hat  and  a  closely-buttoned 
frock-coat. 

"I  have  told  you  that  he  was  very  unpopular,  but 
it  was  not  an  unpopularity  of  the  sort  which  ignores 
a  man  and  leaves  him  chiefly  to  his  own  society. 
Haddo  knew  everybody  and  was  to  be  found  in  the 
most  unlikely  places.  Though  people  disliked  him, 
they  showed  a  curious  pleasure  in  his  company,  and 
he  was  probably  entertained  more  than  any  man  in 
Oxford.  I  never  saw  him  but  he  was  surrounded 
by  a  little  crowd,  who  abused  him  behind  his  back, 
but  could  not  resist  his  fascination. 

"I  often  tried  to  analyse  this,  for  I  felt  it  as  much 
as  anyone,  and  though  I  honestly  could  not  bear 
him,  I  could  never  resist  going  to  see  him  whenever 


88  THE  MAGICIAN 

opportunity  arose.  I  suppose  he  offered  the  charm 
of  the  unexpected  to  that  mass  of  undergraduates 
who,  for  all  their  matter-of-fact  breeziness,  are 
curiously  alive  to  the  romantic.  It  was  impossible 
to  tell  what  he  would  do  or  say  next,  and  you  were 
kept  perpetually  on  the  alert.  He  was  certainly  not 
witty,  but  he  had  a  coarse  humour  which  excited 
the  rather  gross  sense  of  the  ludicrous  possessed 
by  the  young.  He  had  a  gift  for  caricature  which 
was  really  diverting,  and  an  imperturbable  assur- 
ance. He  had  also  an  ingenious  talent  for  profanity, 
and  his  inventiveness  in  this  particular  was  a  power 
among  youths  whose  imaginations  stopped  at  the 
commoner  sorts  of  bad  language.  I  have  heard  him 
preach  a  sermon  of  the  most  blasphemous  sort  in 
the  very  accents  of  the  late  Dean  of  Christ  Church, 
which  outraged  and  at  the  same  time  irresistibly 
amused  everyone  who  heard  it.  He  had  a  more 
varied  knowledge  than  the  greater  part  of  under- 
graduates, and,  having  at  the  same  time  a  retentive 
memory  and  considerable  quickness,  he  was  able  to 
assume  an  attitude  of  omniscience  which  was  as 
impressive  as  it  was  irritating.  I  have  never  heard 
him  confess  that  he  had  not  read  a  book.  Often, 
when  I  tried  to  catch  him,  he  confounded  me  by  quot- 
ing the  identical  words  of  a  passage  in  some  work 
which  I  could  have  sworn  he  had  never  set  eyes  on. 
I  daresay  it  was  due  only  to  some  juggling,  like  the 
conjuror's  sleight  of  hand  that  apparently  lets  you 
choose  a  card,  but  in  fact  forces  one  on  you;  and 
he  brought  the  conversation  round  cleverly  to  a 
point  when  it  was  obvious  I  should  mention  a  defi- 


THE  MAGICIAN  89 

nite  book.  He  talked  very  well,  with  an  entertain- 
ing flow  of  rather  pompous  language,  which  made 
the  amusing  things  he  said  particularly  funny.  His 
passion  for  euphuism  contrasted  strikingly  with  the 
simple  speech  of  those  with  whom  he  consorted.  It 
certainly  added  authority  to  what  he  said.  He  was 
proud  of  his  family  and  never  hesitated  to  tell  the 
curious  of  his  distinguished  descent.  Unless  he 
has  much  altered,  you  will  already  have  heard  of 
his  relationship  with  various  noble  houses.  He  is, 
in  fact,  nearly  connected  with  persons  of  importance, 
and  his  ancestry  is  no  less  distinguished  than  he  as- 
serts. His  father  is  dead,  and  he  owns  a  place  in 
Staffordshire  which  is  almost  historic.  I  have  seen 
photographs  of  it,  and  it  is  certainly  very  fine.  His 
forebears  have  betfn  noted  in  the  history  of  England 
since  the  days  of  the  courtier  who  accompanied 
Anne  of  Denmark  to  Scotland,  and,  if  he  is  proud 
of  his  stock,  it  is  not  without  cause.  So  he  passed 
his  time  at  Oxford,  cordially  disliked,  at  the  same 
time  respected  and  mistrusted;  he  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  a  liar  and  a  rogue,  but  it  could  not  be  denied 
that  he  had  considerable  influence  over  others.  He 
amused,  angered,  irritated,  and  interested  everyone 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  There  was  always 
something  mysterious  about  him,  and  he  loved  to 
wrap  himself  in  a  romantic  impenetrability.  Though 
he  knew  so  many  people,  no  one  knew  him,  and  to 
the  end  he  remained  a  stranger  in  our  midst.  A 
legend  grew  up  around  him,  which  he  fostered 
sedulously,  and  it  was  reported  that  he  had  secret 
vices,  which  could  only  be  whispered  with  bated 


90  THE  MAGICIAN 

breath.  He  was  said  to  intoxicate  himself  with 
Oriental  drugs,  and  to  haunt  the  vilest  opium-dens 
in  the  East  of  London.  He  kept  the  greatest  sur- 
prise for  the  last,  since,  though  he  was  never  seen 
to  work,  he  managed,  to  the  universal  surprise,  to 
get  a  first.  He  went  down,  and  to  the  best  of  my 
belief  was  never  seen  in  Oxford  again. 

"I  heard  vaguely  that  he  was  travelling  over  the 
world,  and,  when  I  met  in  town  now  and  then  some 
of  the  fellows  who  had  known  him  at  the  'Varsity, 
weird  rumours  reached  me.  One  told  me  that  he 
was  tramping  across  America,  earning  his  living  as 
he  went;  another  asserted  that  he  had  been  seen  in 
a  monastery  in  India;  a  third  assured  me  that  he 
had  married  a  ballet-girl  in  Milan;  and  someone 
else  was  positive  that  he  had  taken  to  drink.  One 
opinion,  however,  was  common  to  all  my  inform- 
ants, and  this  was  that  he  did  something  out  of 
the  common.  It  was  clear  that  he  was  not  the  man 
to  settle  down  to  the  tame  life  of  a  country  gentle- 
man which  his  position  and  fortune  indicated.  At 
last  I  met  him  one  day  in  Piccadilly,  and  we  dined 
together  at  the  Savoy.  I  hardly  recognised  him,  for 
he  was  become  enormously  stout,  and  his  hair  had 
already  grown  thin.  Though  he  could  not  have 
been  more  than  twenty-five,  he  looked  considerably 
older.  I  tried  to  find  out  what  he  had  been  up  to, 
but,  with  the  air  of  mystery  he  affects,  he  would 
go  into  no  details.  He  gave  me  to  understand  that 
he  had  sojourned  in  lands  where  the  white  man  had 
never  been  before,  and  had  learnt  esoteric  secrets 
which  overthrew  the  foundations  of  modern  science. 


THE  MAGICIAN  91 

It  seemed  to  me  that  he  had  coarsened  in  mind  as 
well  as  in  appearance.  I  do  not  know  if  it  was  due 
to  my  own  development  since  the  old  days  at  Ox- 
ford, and  to  my  greater  knowledge  of  the  world, 
but  he  did  not  seem  to  me  so  brilliant  as  I  remem- 
bered. His  facile  banter  was  rather  stupid.  In  fact 
he  bored  me.  The  pose  which  had  seemed  amusing 
in  a  lad  fresh  from  Eton  now  was  intolerable,  and 
I  was  glad  to  leave  him.  It  was  characteristic  that, 
after  asking  me  to  dinner,  he  left  me  in  a  lordly 
way  to  pay  the  bill. 

"Then  I  heard  nothing  of  him  till  the  other  day, 
when  our  friend  Miss  Ley  asked  me  to  meet  at  din- 
ner the  German  explorer  Burkhardt.  I  daresay 
you  remember  that  Burkhardt  brought  out  a  book 
a  little  while  ago  on  his  adventures  in  Central  Asia. 
I  knew  that  Oliver  Haddo  was  his  companion  in 
that  journey  and  had  meant  to  read  it  on  this  ac- 
count, but,  having  been  excessively  busy,  had 
omitted  to  do  so.  I  took  the  opportunity  to  ask  the 
German  about  our  common  acquaintance,  and  we 
had  a  long  talk.  Burkhardt  had  met  him  by  chance 
at  Mombasa  in  East  Africa,  where  he  was  arrang- 
ing an  expedition  after  big  game,  and  they  agreed 
to  go  together.  He  told  me  that  Haddo  was  a  mar- 
vellous shot  and  a  hunter  of  exceptional  ability. 
Burkhardt  had  been  rather  suspicious  of  a  man  who 
boasted  so  much  of  his  attainments,  but  was  obliged 
soon  to  confess  that  he  boasted  of  nothing  unjustly. 
Haddo  has  had  an  extraordinary  experience,  the 
truth  of  which  Burkhardt  can  vouch  for.  He  went 
out  alone  one  night  on  the  trail  of  three  lions  and 


92  THE  MAGICIAN 

killed  them  all  before  morning  with  one  shot  each. 
I  know  nothing  of  these  things,  but  from  the  way 
in  which  Burkhardt  spoke,  I  judge  it  must  be  a 
unique  occurrence.  But  characteristically  enough 
no  one  was  more  conscious  than  Haddo  of  the  sin- 
gularity of  his  feat,  and  he  made  life  almost  insuf- 
ferable for  his  fellow-traveller  in  consequence. 
Burkhardt  assures  me  that  Haddo  is  really  remark- 
able in  pursuit  of  big  game.  He  has  a  sort  of  in- 
stinct which  leads  him  to  the  most  likely  places,  and 
a  wonderful  feeling  for  country,  whereby  he  can 
cut  across,  and  head  off  animals  whose  spoor  he  has 
noticed.  His  courage  is  very  great.  To  follow  a 
wounded  lion  into  thick  cover  is  the  most  danger- 
ous proceeding  in  the  world,  and  demands  the  ut- 
most coolness.  The  animal  invariably  sees  the 
sportsman  before  he  sees  it,  and  in  most  cases 
charges.  But  Haddo  never  hesitated  on  these  oc- 
casions, and  Burkhardt  could  only  express  entire  ad- 
miration for  his  pluck.  It  appears  that  he  is  not 
what  is  called  a  good  sportsman.  He  kills  wantonly, 
when  there  can  be  no  possible  excuse,  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  it;  and  to  Burkhardt's  indignation  fre- 
quently shot  beasts  whose  skins  and  horjis  they  did 
not  even  trouble  to  take.  When  antelope  were  so  far 
off  that  it  was  impossible  to  kill  them,  and  the  ap- 
proach of  night  made  it  useless  to  follow,  he  would 
often  shoot,  and  leave  a  wretched  wounded  beast  to 
die  by  inches.  His.  selfishness  was  extreme,  and  he 
never  shared  any  information  with  his  friend  that 
might  rob  him  of  an  uninterrupted  pursuit  of  game. 
But  notwithstanding  all  this  Burkhardt  had  so  high 


THE  MAGICIAN  93 

an  opinion  of  Haddo's  general  capacity  and  of  his  re- 
sourcefulness that,  when  he  was  arranging  his  jour- 
ney in  Asia,  he  asked  him  to  come  also.  Haddo 
consented,  and  it  appears  that  Burkhardt's  book 
gives  further  proof,  if  it  is  needed,  of  the  man's  ex- 
traordinary qualities.  The  German  confessed  that 
on  more  than  one  occasion  he  owed  his  life  to  Haddo's 
rare  power  of  seizing  opportunities.  But  they  quar- 
relled at  last  through  Haddo's  overbearing  treatment 
of  the  natives.  Burkhardt  had  vaguely  suspected 
him  of  cruelty,  but  at  length  it  was  clear  that  he 
used  them  in  a  manner  which  could  not  be  defended. 
Finally  he  had  a  desperate  quarrel  with  one  of  the 
camp  servants,  as  a  result  of  which  the  man  was  shot 
dead.  Haddo  swore  that  he  fired  in  self-defence,  but 
his  action  caused  a  general  desertion,  and  the  travel- 
lers found  themselves  in  a  very  dangerous  predica- 
ment. Burkhardt  thought  that  Haddo  was  clearly 
to  blame  and  refused  to  have  anything  more  to  do 
with  him.  They  separated.  Burkhardt  returned  to 
England;  and  Haddo,  pursued  by  the  relations  of 
the  murdered  man,  had  great  difficulty  in  escaping 
with  his  life.  Nothing  has  been  heard  of  him  since 
till  I  got  your  letter. 

"Altogether  an  extraordinary  man.  I  confess 
that  I  can  make  nothing  of  him.  I  shall  never  be 
surprised  to  hear  anything  in  connection  with  him. 
I  recommend  you  to  avoid  him  like  the  plague.  He 
can  be  no  one's  friend.  As  an  acquaintance  he  is 
treacherous  and  insincere;  as  an  enemy,  I  can  well 
imagine  that  he  would  be  as  merciless  as  he  is  un- 
scrupulous. 


94  THE  MAGICIAN 

"An  immensely  long  letter! 

"Good-bye,  my  son.  I  hope  that  your  studies  in 
French  methods  of  surgery  will  have  added  to  your 
wisdom.  Your  industry  edifies  me,  and  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  eventually  be  a  baronet  and  the  presi- 
dent of  the  Royal  College  of  Surgeons;  and  you 
shall  relieve  royal  persons  of  their  vermiform  ap- 
pendix. 

"Yours  ever, 

"FRANK  HURRELL." 

Arthur,  having  read  this  letter  twice,  put  it  in  an 
envelope,  and  left  it  without  comment  for  Miss  Boyd. 
Her  answer  came  within  a  couple  of  hours : 

"Fve  asked  him  to  tea  on  Wednesday,  and  I  can't 
put  him  off.  You  must  come  and  help  us;  but  please 
be  as  polite  to  him  as  if,  like  most  of  us,  he  had  only 
taken  mental  liberties  with  the  Ten  Command- 
ments/' 


Chapter  VII 

ON  the  morning  of  the  day  upon  which  they  had 
asked  him  to  tea  Oliver  Haddo  left  at  Mar- 
garet's door  vast  masses  of  chrysanthemums.  There 
were  so  many  that  the  austere  studio  was  changed  in 
aspect.  It  gained  an  ephemeral  brightness  that 
Margaret,  notwithstanding  pieces  of  silk  hung  here 
and  there  on  the  walls,  had  never  been  able  to  give 
it.  When  Arthur  arrived  he  was  dismayed  that  the 
thought  had  not  occurred  to  him. 

"I'm  so  sorry,"  he  said.  "You  must  think  me 
very  inconsiderate." 

Margaret  smiled  and  held  his  hand. 

"I  think  I  like  you  because  you  don't  trouble 
about  the  common  little  attentions  of  lovers." 

"Margaret's  a  wise  girl,"  smiled  Susie.  "She 
knows  that  when  a  man  sends  flowers  it  is  a  sign 
that  he  has  admired  more  women  than  one." 

"I  don't  suppose  that  these  were  sent  particu- 
larly to  me." 

Arthur  Burdon  sat  down  and  observed  with 
pleasure  the  cheerful  fire.  The  drawn  curtains  and 
the  lamps  gave  the  place  a  nice  cosiness,  and  there 
was  the  peculiar  air  of  romance  which  is  always  in  a 
studio.  There  is  a  sense  of  freedom  about  it  that 
disposes  the  mind  to  diverting  speculations.  In 

95 


96  THE  MAGICIAN 

such  an  atmosphere  it  is  possible  to  be  serious  with- 
out pompousness  and  flippant  without  inanity. 

In  the  few  days  of  their  acquaintance  Arthur  and 
Susie  had  arrived  at  terms  of  pleasant  familiarity. 
Susie,  from  her  superior  standpoint  of  an  unmarried 
woman  no  longer  young,  used  him  with  the  good- 
natured  banter«>which  she  affected.  To  her  he  was 
a  foolish  young  thing  in  love,  and  she  marvelled 
that  even  the  cleverest  man  in  that  condition  could 
behave  like  a  perfect  idiot.  But  Margaret  knew 
that,  if  her  friend  chaffed  him,  it  was  because  she 
completely  approved  of  him.  As  their  intimacy 
increased  Susie  learnt  to  appreciate  his  solid  char- 
acter. She  admired  his  capacity  in  dealing  with 
matters  that  were  in  his  province,  and  the  sim- 
plicity with  which  he  left  alone  those  of  wh'?h 
he  was  ignorant.  There  was  no  pose  in  him.  Sue 
was  touched  also  by  an  ingenuous  candour  which 
gave  a  persuasive  charm  to  his  abruptness.  And, 
though  she  set  a  plain  woman's  value  on  good  looks, 
his  appearance,  rough  hewn  like  a  statue  in  por- 
phyry, pleased  her  singularly.  It  was  ah  index  of 
his  character.  The  look  of  him  gave  you  the  whole 
man,  strong  yet  gentle,  honest  and  simple,  neither 
very  imaginative  nor  very  brilliant,  but  immensely 
reliable  and  trustworthy  to  the  bottom  of  his  soul. 
He  was  seated  now  with  Margaret's  terrier  on  his 
knees,  stroking  its  ears,  and  Susie,  looking  at  him, 
wondered  with  a  little  pang  why  no  man  like  that 
had  ever  cared  for  her.  It  was  evident  that  he 
would  make  a  perfect  companion,  and  his  love,  once 
won,  was  of  the  sort  that  did  not  alter. 


THE  MAGICIAN  97 

Dr.  Porhoet  came  in  and  sat  down  with  the  modest 
quietness  which  was  one  of  his  charms.  He  was 
not  a  great  talker  and  loved  most  to  listen  in  silence 
to  the  chatter  of  young  people.  The  dog  jumped 
down  from  Arthur's  knee,  went  up  to  the  doctor, 
and  rubbed  itself  in  friendly  fashion  against  his  legs. 
They  began  to  talk  in  the  soft  light  and  had  forgotten 
almost  that  another  guest  was  expected.  Margaret 
hoped  fervently  that  he  would  not  come.  She 
had  never  looked  more  lovely  than  on  this  afternoon, 
and  she  busied  herself  with  the  preparations  for 
tea  with  a  housewifely  grace  that  added  a  peculiar 
delicacy  to  her  comeliness.  The  dignity  which 
encompassed  the  perfection  of  her  beauty  was  de- 
lightfully softened,  so  that  you  were  reminded  of 
those  sweet  domestic  saints  who  lighten  here  and 
there  the  passionate  records  of  the  Golden  Book. 

"C'est  tellement  intime  ici,"  smiled  Dr.  Porhoet, 
breaking  into  French  in  the  impossibility  of  express- 
ing in  English  the  exact  feeling  which  that  scene 
gave  him. 

It  might  have  been  a  picture  by  some  master  of 
genre.  It  seemed  hardly  by  chance  that  the  colours 
arranged  themselves  in  such  agreeable  tones,  or  that 
the  lines  of  the  wall  and  the  seated  persons  achieved 
such  a  graceful  decoration.  The  atmosphere  was 
extraordinarily  peaceful. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Arthur  got  up 
to  open.  The  terrier  followed  at  his  heels.  Oliver 
Haddo  entered.  Susie  watched  to  see  what  the  dog 
would  do  and  was  by  this  time  not  surprised  to  see  a 
change  come  over  it.  With  its  tail  between  its  legs 


98  THE  MAGICIAN 

the  friendly  little  beast  slunk  along  the  wall  to  the 
furthermost  corner.  It  turned  a  suspicious,  fright- 
ened eye  upon  Haddo  and  then  hid  its  head.  The 
visitor,  intent  upon  his  greetings,  had  not  noticed 
even  that  there  was  an  animal  in  the  room.  He  ac- 
cepted with  a  simple  courtesy  they  hardly  expected 
from  him  the  young  woman's  thanks  for  his  flowers. 
His  behaviour  surprised  them.  He  put  aside  his 
poses.  He  seemed  genuinely  to  admire  the  cosy 
little  studio.  He  asked  Margaret  to  show  him  her 
sketches  and  looked  at  them  with  unassumed  in- 
terest. His  observations  were  pointed  and  showed 
a  certain  knowledge  of  what  he  spoke  about.  He 
described  himself  as  an  amateur,  that  object  of 
a  painter's  derision:  the  man  "who  knows  what  he 
likes,"  but  his  criticism,  though  generous,  showed 
that  he  was  no  fool.  The  two  women  were  im- 
pressed. Putting  the  sketches  aside,  he  began  to 
talk,  for  once  not  of  himself,  but  gaily  and  quite 
naturally,  of  the  many  places  he  had  seen.  It  was 
evident  that  he  sought  to  please.  Susie  began  to 
understand  how  it  was  that,  notwithstanding  his 
affectations,  he  had  acquired  so  great  an  influence 
over  the  undergraduates  of  Oxford.  There  was 
romance  and  laughter  in  his  conversation;  and 
though,  as  Frank  Hurrell  had  said,  lacking  in  wit, 
he  made  up  for  it  with  a  diverting  pleasantry  that 
might  very  well  have  passed  for  humour.  But 
Susie,  though  amused,  felt  that  this  was  not  the 
purpose  for  which  she  had  asked  him  to  come.  Dr. 
Porhoet  had  lent  her  his  entertaining  work  on  the  old 
alchemists,  and  this  gave  her  a  chance  to  bring  their 


THE  MAGICIAN  99 

conversation  to  matters  on  which  Haddo  was  ex- 
pert. She  had  read  the  book  with  delight;  and,  her 
mind  all  aflame  with  those  strange  histories  wherein 
fact  and  fancy  were  so  wonderfully  mingled,  she 
was  eager  to  know  more.  The  long  toil  in  which 
so  many  had  engaged,  always  to  lose  their  fortunes, 
often  to  suffer  persecution  and  torture,  interested 
her  no  less  than  the  accounts,  almost  authenticated, 
of  those  who  had  succeeded  in  their  extraordinary 
quest. 

She  turned  to  Dr.  Porhoet. 

"You  are  a  bold  man  to  assert  that  now  and  then 
the  old  alchemists  actually  did  make  gold,"  she 
said. 

"I  have  not  gone  quite  so  far  as  that,"  he  smiled. 
"1  assert  merely  that,  if  evidence  as  conclusive 
were  offered  of  any  other  historical  event,  it  would 
be  credited  beyond  doubt.  We  can  disbelieve  these 
circumstantial  details  only  by  coming  to  the  con- 
clusion beforehand  that  it  is  impossible  they  should 
be  true." 

"I  wish  you  would  write  that  life  of  Paracelsus 
which  you  suggest  in  your  preface." 

Dr.  Porhoet,  smiling,  shook  his  head. 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  do  that  now,"  he  said, 
thoughtfully.  "Yet  he  is  the  most  interesting  of  all 
the  alchemists,  for  he  offers  the  fascinating  problem 
of  an  immensely  complex  character.  It  is  impossible 
to  know  to  what  extent  he  was  a  charlatan  and  to 
what  a  man  of  serious  science." 

Susie  glanced  at  Oliver  Haddo,  who  sat  in  si- 
lence, his  heavy  face  in  shadow,  his  eyes  fixed- 


100  THE  MAGICIAN 

steadily  on  the  speaker.     The  immobility  of  that 
vast  bulk  was  peculiar. 

"His  name  is  not  so  ridiculous  as  later  associa- 
tions have  made  it  seem/'  proceeded  the  doctor, 
"for  he  belonged  to  the  celebrated  family  of  Bom- 
bast, and  they  were  called  Hohenheim  after  their 
ancient  residence,  which  was  a  castle  near  Stuttgart 
in  Wiirtemberg.  The  most  interesting  part  of  his 
life  is  that  which  the  absence  of  documents  makes 
it  impossible  accurately  to  describe.  He  travelled 
in  Germany,  Italy,  France,  the  Netherlands,  in  Den- 
mark, Sweden,  and  Russia.  He  went  even  to  India. 
He  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Tartars  and  brought 
to  the  Great  Khan,  whose  son  he  afterwards  ac- 
companied to  Constantinople.  The  mind  must  be 
dull,  indeed,  that  is  not  thrilled  by  the  thought  of 
this  wandering  genius  traversing  the  lands  of  the 
earth  at  the  most  eventful  date  of  the  world's  his- 
tory. It  was  at  Constantinople  that,  according  to  a 
certain  aureum  vellus  printed  at  Rorschach  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  he  received  the  philosopher's 
stone  from  Solomon  Trismosinus.  This  person 
possessed  also  the  Universal  Panacea,  and  it  is  as- 
serted that  he  was  seen  still  alive  by  a  French  trav- 
eller at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Para- 
celsus then  passed  through  the  countries  that  border 
the  Danube,  and  so  reached  Italy,  where  he  served 
as  a  surgeon  in  the  imperial  army.  I  see  no  reason 
why  he  should  not  have  been  present  at  the  battle 
of  Pavia.  He  collected  information  from  physicians, 
surgeons,  and  alchemists;  from  executioners,  bar- 
bers, shepherds,  Jews,  gipsies,  midwives,  and  fortune- 


THE  MAGICIAN  101 

tellers;  from  high  and  low;  from  learned  and  vulgar. 
In  the  sketch  I  have  given  of  his  career  in  that 
volume  you  hold,  I  have  copied  out  a  few  words 
of  his  upon  the  acquirement  of  knowledge  which 
affect  me  with  a  singular  emotion." 

Dr.  Porhoet  took  his  book  from  Miss  Boyd  and 
opened  it  thoughtfully.  He  read  out  the  fine  pas- 
sage from  the  preface  of  the  Paragranum: 

"I  went  in  search  of  my  art,  often  incurring 
danger  of  life.  I  have  not  been  ashamed  to  learn 
that  which  seemed  useful  to  me  even  from  vaga- 
bonds, hangmen,  and  barbers.  We  know  that  a 
lover  will  go  far  to  meet  the  woman  he  adores;  how 
much  more  will  the  lover  of  Wisdom  be  tempted 
to  go  in  search  of  his  divine  mistress." 

He  turned  the  page  to  find  a  few  more  lines 
further  on : 

"We  should  look  for  knowledge  where  we  may 
expect  to  find  it,  and  why  should  a  man  be  despised 
who  goes  in  search  of  it?  Those  who  remain  at 
home  may  grow  richer  and  live  more  comfortably 
than  those  who  wander;  but  I  desire  neither  to  live 
comfortably  nor  to  grow  rich." 

"By  Jove,  those  are  fine  words,"  said  Arthur, 
rising  to  his  feet. 

Their  brave  simplicity  moved  him  as  no  rhetoric 
could  have  done,  and  they  made  him  more  eager 
still  to  devote  his  own  life  to  the  difficult  acquisition 


10£  THE  MAGICIAN 

of  knowledge.     Dr.   Porhoet  gave  him  his   ironic 
smile. 

"Yet  the  man  who  could  write  that  was  in  many 
ways  a  mere  buffoon,  who  praised  his  wares  with 
the  vulgar  glibness  of  a  quack.  He  was  vain  and 
ostentatious,  intemperate  and  boastful.  Listen: 

"'  After  me,  O  Avicenna,  Galen,  Rhases,  and  Mon- 
tagnana!  After  me,  not  I  after  you,  ye  men  of 
Paris,  Montpellier,  Meissen,  and  Cologne;  all  you 
that  come  from  the  countries  along  the  Danube  and 
the  Rhine,  and  you  that  come  from  the  islands  of 
the  sea.  It  is  not  for  me  to  follow  you  because 
mine  is  the  lordship.  The  time  will  come  when 
none  of  you  shall  remain  in  his  dark  corner  who 
will  not  be  an  object  of  contempt  to  the  world, 
because  I  shall  be  the  King,  and  the  Monarchy  will 
be  mine.'" 

Dr.  Porhoet  closed  the  book. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  such  gibberish  in  your  life? 
Yet  he  did  a  bold  thing.  He  wrote  in  German  in- 
stead of  in  Latin,  and  so,  by  weakening  the  old  be- 
lief in  authority,  brought  about  the  beginning  of 
free  thought  in  science.  He  continued  to  travel 
from  place  to  place,  followed  by  a  crowd  of  disci- 
ples, sometimes  attracted  to  a  wealthy  city  by  hope 
of  gain,  sometimes  journeying  to  a  petty  court  at 
the  invitation  of  a  prince.  His  folly  and  the  malice 
of  his  rivals  prevented  him  from  remaining  any- 
where for  long.  He  wrought  many  wonderful 
cures.  The  physicians  of  Nuremberg  denounced 


THE  MAGICIAN  103 

him  as  a  quack,  a  charlatan,  and  an  impostor.  To 
refute  them  he  asked  the  city  council  to  put  under 
his  care  patients  that  had  been  pronounced  incur- 
able. They  sent  him  several  cases  of  elephantiasis, 
and  he  cured  them  entirely:  testimonials  to  that 
effect  may  still  be  found  in  the  archives  of  Nurem- 
berg. He  died  as  the  result  of  a  tavern  brawl  and 
was  buried  at  Salzburg.  Tradition  says  that,  his 
astral  body  having  already  during  physical  exist- 
ence become  self-conscious,  he  is  now  a  living 
adept,  residing  with  others  of  his  sort  in  a  certain 
place  in  Asia.  From  here  he  still  influences  the 
minds  of  his  followers  and  at  times  even  appears  to 
them  in  visible  and  tangible  substance." 

"But  look  here,"  said  Arthur,  "didn't  Paracel- 
sus, like  most  of  these  old  fellows,  in  the  course  of 
his  researches  make  any  practical  discoveries?" 

"I  prefer  those  which  were  not  practical,"  con- 
fessed the  doctor,  with  a  smile.  "Consider  for 
example  the  Tinctura  Physicorum,  which  neither 
Pope  nor  Emperor  could  buy  with  all  his  wealth. 
It  was  one  of  the  greatest  alchemical  mysteries, 
and,  though  mentioned  under  the  name  of  The  Red 
Lion  in  many  occult  works,  was  actually  known  to 
few  before  Paracelsus,  except  Hermes  Trismegistus 
and  Albertus  Magnus.  Its  preparation  was  ex- 
tremely difficult,  for  the  presence  was  needed  of 
two  perfectly  harmonious  persons,  whose  skill  was 
equal.  It  was  said  to  be  a  red  ethereal  fluid.  The 
least  wonderful  of  its  many  properties  was  its 
power  to  transmute  all  inferior  metals  into  gold. 
There  is  an  old  church  in  the  south  of  Bavaria 


104  THE  MAGICIAN 

where  the  tincture  is  said  to  be  still  buried  in  the 
ground.  In  the  year  1698  some  of  it  penetrated 
through  the  soil,  and  the  phenomenon  was  witnessed 
by  many  people,  who  believed  it  to  be  a  miracle. 
The  church  which  was  thereupon  erected  is  still  a 
well-known  place  of  pilgrimage.  Paracelsus  con- 
cludes his  directions  for  its  manufacture  with  the 
words:  But  if  this  be  incomprehensible  to  you,  re- 
member that  only  he  who  desires  with  his  whole 
heart  will  find,  and  to  him  only  who  knocks  ve- 
hemently shall  the  door  be  opened.'* 

"I  shall  never  try  to  make  it,"  smiled  Arthur. 

"Then  there  was  the  Electrum  Magicum,  of 
which  the  wise  made  mirrors  wherein  they  were 
able  to  see  not  only  the  events  of  the  past  and  of  the 
present,  but  the  doings  of  men  in  daytime  and  at 
night.  They  might  see  anything  that  had  been 
written  or  spoken,  and  the  person  who  said  it,  and 
the  causes  that  made  him.  But  I  like  best  the 
Primum  Ens  Melisscz.  An  elaborate  prescription 
is  given  for  its  manufacture.  It  was  a  remedy  to 
prolong  life,  and  not  only  Paracelsus,  but  his  prede- 
cessors Galen,  Arnold  of  Villanova,  and  Raymond 
Lulli,  had  laboured  studiously  to  discover  it." 

"Will  it  make  me  eighteen  again?"  cried  Susie. 

"It  is  guaranteed  to  do  so,"  answered  Dr.  Por- 
hoet  gravely.  "Lesebren,  a  physician  to  Louis  XIV., 
gives  an  account  of  certain  experiments  witnessed 
by  himself.  It  appears  that  one  of  his  friends  pre- 
pared the  remedy,  and  his  curiosity  would  not  let 
him  rest  until  he  had  seen  with  his  own  eyes  the 
effect  of  it." 


THE  MAGICIAN  105 

"That  is  the  true  scientific  attitude,"  laughed 
Arthur. 

"He  took  every  morning  at  sunrise  a  glass  of  white 
wine  tinctured  with  this  preparation;  and  after  using 
it  for  fourteen  days  his  nails  began  to  fall  out,  with- 
out, however,  causing  him  any  pain-  His  courage 
failed  him  at  this  point,  and  he  gave  the  same  dose 
to  an  old  female  servant.  She  regained  at  least  one 
of  the  characteristics  of  youth,  much  to  her  aston- 
ishment, for  she  did  not  know  that  she  had  been 
taking  a  medicine;  and,  becoming  frightened,  re- 
fused to  continue.  The  experimenter  then  took  some 
grain,  soaked  it  in  the  tincture,  and  gave  it  to  an 
aged  hen.  On  the  sixth  day  that  bird  began  to  lose 
its  feathers,  and  kept  on  losing  them  till  it  was  naked 
as  a  new-born  babe;  but  before  two  weeks  had 
passed  other  feathers  grew,  and  these  were  more 
beautifully  coloured  than  any  that  fortunate  hen 
had  possessed  in  her  first  youth.  Her  comb  stood 
up,  and  she  began  again  to  lay  eggs." 

Arthur  laughed  heartily. 

"I  confess  I  like  that  story  much  better  than  the 
others.  The  Primum  Ens  Melissa  at  least  offers  a 
less  puerile  benefit  than  most  magical  secrets." 

"Do  you  call  the  search  for  gold  puerile?"  asked 
Haddo,  who  had  been  sitting  for  a  long  time  in 
complete  silence. 

"I  venture  to  call  it  sordid." 

"You  are  very  superior." 

"Because  I  think  the  aims  of  mystical  persons 
invariably  gross  or  trivial?  To  my  plain  mind  it  is 
inane  to  raise  the  dead  in  order  to  hear  from  their 


106  THE  MAGICIAN 

phantom  lips  nothing  but  commonplaces.  And  I 
really  cannot  see  that  the  alchemist  who  spent  his 
life  in  the  attempted  manufacture  of  gold  was  a 
more  respectable  object  than  the  outside  jobber  of 
modern  civilisation." 

"But  if  he  sought  for  gold  it  was  for  the  power 
it  gave  him,  and  it  was  power  he  aimed  at  when 
he  brooded  night  and  day  over  dim  secrets.  Power 
was  the  subject  of  all  his  dreams,  but  not  a  paltry, 
limited  dominion  over  this  or  that;  power  over  the 
whole  world,  power  over  all  created  things,  power 
over  the  very  elements,  power  over  God  Himself. 
His  lust  was  so  vast  that  he  could  not  rest  till  the 
stars  in  their  courses  were  obedient  to  his  will." 

For  once  Haddo  lost  his  enigmatic  manner.  It 
was  plain  now  that  his  words  intoxicated  him,  and 
his  face  assumed  a  new  and  singular  expression.  A 
peculiar  arrogance  flashed  in  his  shining  eyes. 

"And  what  else  is  it  that  men  seek  in  life  but 
power!  If  they  want  money  it  is  but  for  the  power 
that  attends  it,  and  it  is  power  again  that  they 
strive  for  in  all  the  knowledge  they  acquire.  Fools 
and  sots  aim  at  happiness,  but  men  aim  only  at 
power.  The  magus,  the  sorcerer,  the  alchemist,  are 
seized  with  the  fascination  of  the  unknown;  and 
they  desire  a  greatness  that  is  inaccessible  to  man- 
kind. They  think  by  the  science  they  study  so 
patiently,  by  endurance  and  strength,  by  force  of 
will  and  by  imagination,  for  these  are  the  great 
weapons  of  the  magician,  they  may  achieve  at  last 
a  power  with  which  they  can  face  the  God  of 
Heaven  Himself." 


THE  MAGICIAN  107 

Oliver  Haddo  lifted  his  huge  bulk  from  the  low 
chair  in  which  he  had  been  sitting.  He  began  to 
walk  up  and  down  the  studio.  It  was  quite  strange 
to  see  this  heavy  man,  whose  seriousness  was  always 
problematical,  caught  up  by  a  curious  excitement. 

"You've  been  talking  of  Paracelsus,"  he  said. 
"There  is  one  of  his  experiments  which  the  doctor 
has  withheld  from  you.  You  will  find  it  neither 
mean  nor  mercenary,  but  it  is  very  terrible.  I  do 
not  know  whether  the  account  of  it  is  true,  but  it 
would  be  of  extraordinary  interest  to  test  it  for 
oneself/' 

He  looked  round  at  the  four  persons  who  watched 
him  intently.  There  was  a  singular  agitation  in  his 
manner,  as  though  the  thing  of  which  he  spoke  was 
very  near  his  heart. 

"The  old  alchemists  believed  in  the  possibility  of 
spontaneous  generation.  By  the  combination  of 
psychical  powers  and  of  strange  essences  they  claim 
to  have  created  forms  in  which  life  became  mani- 
fest. Of  these  the  most  marvellous  were  those 
strange  beings,  male  and  female,  which  were  called 
homunculi.  The  old  philosophers  doubted  the  pos- 
sibility of  this  operation,  but  Paracelsus  asserts  posi- 
tively that  it  can  be  done.  I  picked  up  once  for  a 
song  on  a  barrow  at  London  Bridge  a  little  book  in 
German.  It  was  dirty  and  thumbed,  many  of  the 
pages  were  torn,  and  the  binding  scarcely  held  the 
leaves  together.  It  was  called  Die  Sphinx  and  was 
edited  by  a  certain  Dr.  EmiJ  Besetzny.  It  con- 
tained the  most  extraordinary  accounts  I  have  ever 
read  of  certain  spirits  generated  by  Johann-Ferdi- 


108  THE  MAGICIAN 

nand,  Count  von  Kiiffstein,  in  the  Tyrol,  in  1775. 
The  sources  from  which  these  accounts  are  taken 
consist  of  masonic  manuscripts,  but  more  especially 
of  a  diary  kept  by  a  certain  James  Kammerer,  who 
acted  in  the  capacity  of  butler  and  famulus  to  the 
Count.  The  evidence  is  ten  times  better  than  any 
upon  which  men  believe  the  ^articles  of  their  re- 
ligion. If  it  related  to  less  wonderful  subjects  you 
would  not  hesitate  to  believe  implicitly  every  word 
you  read.  There  were  ten  homunculi — James  Kam- 
merer calls  them  prophesying  spirits — kept  in  strong 
bottles,  such  as  are  used  to  preserve  fruit,  and  these 
were  filled  with  water.  They  were  made  in  five 
weeks,  by  the  Count  von  Kiiffstein  and  an  Italian 
mystic  and  rosicrucian,  the  Abbe  Geloni.  The 
bottles  were  closed  with  ox-bladders  and  with  a 
magic  seal.  The  spirits  were  about  a  span  long, 
and  the  Count  was  anxious  that  they  should  grow. 
They  were  therefore  buried  under  two  cartloads 
of  manure,  and  the  pile  daily  sprinkled  with  a  cer- 
tain liquor  prepared  with  great  trouble  by  the 
adepts.  The  pile  after  such  sprinklings  began  to 
ferment  and  steam,  as  if  heated  by  a  subterranean 
fire.  When  the  bottles  were  removed,  it  was  found 
that  the  spirits  had  grown  to  about  a  span  and  a 
half  each;  the  male  homunculi  were  come  into  pos- 
session of  heavy  beards,  and  the  nails  of  the  fingers 
had  grown.  In  two  of  the  bottles  there  was  noth- 
ing to  be  seen  save  clear  water,  but  when  the  Abbe 
knocked  thrice  at  the  seal  upon  the  mouth,  utter- 
ing at  the  same  time  certain  Hebrew  words,  the 
water  turned  a  mysterious  colour,  and  the  spirits 


THE  MAGICIAN  109 

showed  their  faces,  very  small  at  first,  but  growing 
in  size  till  they  attained  that  of  a  human  counte- 
nance. And  this  countenance  was  horrible  and 
fiendish." 

Haddo  spoke  in  a  low  voice  that  was  hardly 
steady,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  was  much  moved. 
It  appeared  as  if  his  story  affected  him  so  that  he 
could  scarcely  preserve  his  composure.  He  went  on. 

"These  beings  were  fed  every  three  days  by  the 
Count  with  a  rose-coloured  substance  which  was 
kept  in  a  silver  box.  Once  a  week  the  bottles  were 
emptied  and  filled  again  with  pure  rain-water.  The 
change  had  to  be  made  rapidly  because,  while  the 
homunculi  were  exposed  to  the  air,  they  closed  their 
eyes  and  seemed  to  grow  weak  and  unconscious, 
as  though  they  were  about  to  die.  But  with  the 
spirits  that  were  invisible,  at  certain  intervals  blood 
was  poured  into  the  water;  and  it  disappeared  at 
once,  inexplicably,  without  colouring  or  troubling 
it.  By  some  accident  one  of  the  bottles  fell  one 
day  and  was  broken.  The  homunculus  within  died 
after  a  few  painful  respirations  in  spite  of  all  efforts 
to  save  him,  and  the  body  was  buried  in  the  garden. 
An  attempt  to  generate  another,  made  by  the  Count 
without  the  assistance  of  the  Abbe,  who  had  left, 
failed;  it  produced  only  a  small  thing  like  a  leech, 
which  had  little  vitality  and  soon  died." 

Haddo  ceased  speaking,  and  Arthur  looked  at 
him  with  amazement. 

"But,  taking  for  granted  that  the  thing  is  pos- 
sible, what  on  earth  is  the  use  of  manufacturing 
these  strange  beasts?"  he  exclaimed. 


110  THE  MAGICIAN 

"Use!"  cried  Haddo  passionately.  "What  do 
you  think  would  be  a  man's  sensations  when  he  had 
solved  the  great  mystery  of  existence,  when  he  saw 
living  before  him  the  substance  which  was  dead? 
These  homunculi  were  seen  by  historical  persons, 
by  Count  Max  Lemberg,  by  Count  Franz-Josef  von 
Thun,  and  by  many  others.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
they  were  actually  generated.  But  with  our  modern 
appliances,  with  our  greater  skill,  what  might  it  not 
be  possible  to  do  now  if  we  had  the  courage?  There 
are  chemists  toiling  away  in  their  laboratories  to 
create  the  primitive  protoplasm  from  matter  which 
is  dead,  the  organic  from  the  inorganic.  I  have 
studied  their  experiments.  I  know  all  that  they 
know.  Why  shouldn't  one  work  on  a  larger  scale, 
joining  to  the  knowledge  of  the  old  adepts  the  scien- 
tific discovery  of  the  moderns?  I  don't  know  what 
would  be  the  result.  It  might  be  very  strange  and 
very  wonderful.  Sometimes  my  mind  is  verily 
haunted  by  the  desire  to  see  a  lifeless  substance 
move  under  my  spells,  by  the  desire  to  be  as  God." 

He  gave  a  low  weird  laugh,  half  cruel,  half  volup- 
tuous. It  made  Margaret  shudder  with  sudden 
fright.  He  had  thrown  himself  down  in  the  chair, 
and  he  sat  in  complete  shadow.  By  a  singular  effect 
his  eyes  appeared  blood-red,  and  they  stared  into 
space,  strangely  parallel,  with  an  intensity  that  was 
terrifying.  Arthur  started  a  little  and  gave  him  a 
searching  glance.  The  laugh  and  that  uncanny 
glance,  the  unaccountable  emotion,  were  extraor- 
dinarily significant.  The  whole  thing  was  explained 
if  Oliver  Haddo  was  mad. 


THE  MAGICIAN  111 

There  was  an  uncomfortable  silence.  Haddo's 
words  were  out  of  tune  with  the  rest  of  the  con- 
versation. Dr.  Porhoet  had  spoken  of  magical 
things  with  a  sceptical  irony  that  gave  a  certain 
humour  to  the  subject,  and  Susie  was  resolutely 
flippant.  But  Haddo's  vehemence  put  these  in- 
credulous people  out  of  countenance.  Dr.  Porhoet 
got  up  to  go.  He  shook  hands  with  Susie  and  with 
Margaret.  Arthur  opened  the  door  for  him.  The 
kindly  scholar  looked  round  for  Margaret's  terrier. 

"I  must  bid  my  farewells  to  your  little  dog." 

He  had  been  so  quiet  that  they  had  forgotten 
his  presence. 

"Come  here,  Copper,"  said  Margaret. 

The  dog  slowly  slunk  up  to  them,  and  with  a 
terrified  expression  crouched  at  Margaret's  feet. 

"What  on  earth's  the  matter  with  you?"  she 
asked. 

"He's  frightened  of  me,"  said  Haddo,  with  that 
harsh  laugh  of  his,  which  gave  such  an  unpleasant 
impression. 

"Nonsense!" 

Dr.  Porhoet  bent  down,  stroked  the  dog's  back, 
and  shook  its  paw.  Margaret  lifted  it  up  and  set 
it  on  a  table. 

"Now,  be  good,"  she  said,  with  lifted  finger. 

Dr.  Porhoet  with  a  smile  went  out,  and  Arthur 
shut  the  door  behind  him.  Suddenly,  as  though 
evil  had  entered  into  it,  the  terrier  sprang  at  Oliver 
Haddo  and  fixed  its  teeth  in  his  hand.  Haddo 
uttered  a  cry,  and,  shaking  it  off,  gave  it  a  savage 
kick.  The  dog  rolled  over  with  a  loud  bark  that 


THE  MAGICIAN 

was  almost  a  scream  of  pain,  and  lay  still  for  a 
moment  as  if  it  were  desperately  hurt.  Margaret 
cried  out  with  horror  and  indignation.  A  fierce 
rage  on  a  sudden  seized  Arthur  so  that  he  scarcely 
knew  what  he  was  about.  The  wretched  brute's 
suffering,  Margaret's  terror,  his  own  instinctive 
hatred  of  the  man,  were  joined  together  in  frenzied 
passion. 

"You  brute,"  he  muttered. 

He  hit  Haddo  in  the  face  with  his  clenched  fist. 
The  man  collapsed  bulkily  to  the  floor,  and  Arthur, 
furiously  seizing  his  collar,  began  to  kick  him  with 
all  his  might.  He  shook  him  as  a  dog  would  shake 
a  rat  and  then  violently  flung  him  down.  For  some 
reason  Haddo  made  no  resistance.  He  remained 
where  he  fell  in  utter  helplessness.  Arthur  turned 
to  Margaret.  She  was  holding  the  poor  hurt  dog 
in  her  hands,  crying  over  it,  and  trying  to  comfort 
it  in  its  pain.  Very  gently  he  examined  it  to  see  if 
Haddo's  brutal  kick  had  broken  a  bone.  They  sat 
down  beside  the  fire.  Susie,  to  steady  her  nerves, 
lit  a  cigarette.  She  was  horribly,  acutely  conscious 
of  that  man  who  lay  in  a  mass  on  the  floor  behind 
them.  She  wondered  what  he  would  do.  She 
wondered  why  he  did  not  go.  And  she  was  ashamed 
of  his  humiliation.  Then  her  heart  stood  still;  for 
she  realised  that  he  was  raising  himself  to  his  feet, 
slowly,  with  the  difficulty  of  a  very  fat  person.  He 
leaned  against  the  wall  and  stared  at  them.  He 
remained  there  quite  motionless.  His  stillness  got 
on  her  nerves,  and  she  could  have  screamed  as  she 
felt  him  look  at  them,  look  with  those  unnatural 


THE  MAGICIAN  US 

eyes,   whose  expression  now  she   dared   not  even 
imagine. 

At  length  she  could  no  longer  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  turn  round  just  enough  to  see  him.  Haddo's 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  Margaret  so  intently  that  he 
did  not  see  he  was  himself  observed.  His  face, 
distorted  by  passion,  was  horrible  to  look  upon. 
That  vast  mass  of  flesh  had  a  malignancy  that  was 
inhuman,  and  it  was  terrible  to  see  the  satanic  hatred 
which  hideously  deformed  it.  But  it  changed.  The 
redness  gave  way  to  a  ghastly  pallor.  The  revenge- 
ful scowl  disappeared;  and  a  torpid  smile  spread 
over  the  features,  a  smile  that  was  even  more  terrify- 
ing than  the  frown  of  malice.  What  did  it  mean? 
Susie  could  have  cried  out,  but  her  tongue  cleaved  to 
her  throat  The  smile  passed  away,  and  the  face 
became  once  more  utterly  impassive.  It  seemed  that 
Margaret  and  Arthur  realised  at  last  the  power  of 
those  inhuman  eyes,  and  they  became  quite  still. 
The  dog  ceased  its  sobbing.  The  silence  was  so  great 
that  each  one  heard  the  beating  of  his  heart.  It  was 
intolerable. 

Then  Oliver  Haddo  moved.  He  came  forward 
slowly. 

"I  want  to  ask  you  to  forgive  me  for  what  I  did," 
he  said.  "The  pain  of  the  dog's  bite  was  so  keen 
that  I  lost  my  temper.  I  deeply  regret  that  I  kicked 
it.  Mr.  Burdon  was  very  right  to  thrash  me.  I 
feel  that  I  deserved  no  less." 

He  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  but  with  great  distinct- 
ness. Susie  was  astounded.  An  abject  apology  was 
the  last  thing  she  expected. 


114  THE  MAGICIAN 

He  paused  for  Margaret's  answer.  But  she  could 
not  bear  to  look  at  him.  When  she  spoke,  her 
words  were  scarcely  audible.  She  did  not  know 
why  his  request  to  be  forgiven  made  him  seem  more 
detestable. 

"I  think,  if  you  don't  mind,  you  had  better  go 
away." 

Haddo  bowed  slightly.    He  looked  at  Burdon. 

"I  wish  to  tell  you  that  I  bear  no  malice  for 
what  you  did.  I  recognise  the  justice  of  your 
anger." 

Arthur  did  not  answer  at  all.  Haddo  hesitated 
a  moment,  while  his  eyes  rested  on  them  quietly. 
To  Susie  it  seemed  that  they  flickered  with  the 
shadow  of  a  smile.  She  watched  him  with  bewil- 
dered astonishment. 

He  reached  for  his  hat,  bowed  again,  and  went. 


Chapter  VIII 

SUSIE  could  not  persuade  herself  that  Haddo's 
regret  was  sincere.  The  humility  of  it  aroused 
her  suspicion.  She  could  not  get  out  of  her  mind 
the  ugly  slyness  of  that  smile  which  succeeded  on 
his  face  the  first  passionate  look  of  deadly  hatred. 
Her  fancy  suggested  various  dark  means  whereby 
Oliver  Haddo  might  take  vengeance  on  his  enemy, 
and  she  was  at  pains  to  warn  Arthur.  But  he  only 
laughed. 

"The  man's  a  funk,"  he  said.  "Do  you  think 
if  he'd  had  anything  in  him  at  all  he  would  have 
let  me  kick  him  without  trying  to  defend  himself?" 

Jladdo's  cowardice  increased  the  disgust  with 
which  Arthur  regarded  him.  He  was  amused  by 
Susie's  trepidation. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  suppose  he  can  do?  He 
can't  drop  a  brickbat  on  my  head.  If  he  shoots  me 
he'll  get  his  head  cut  off,  and  he  won't  be  such  an 
ass  as  to  risk  that!" 

Margaret  was  glad  that  the  incident  had  relieved 
them  of  Oliver's  society.  She  met  him  in  the  street 
a  couple  of  days  later,  and,  since  he  took  off  his  hat 
in  the  French  fashion  without  waiting  for  her  to 
acknowledge  him,  she  was  able  to  make  her  cut 
more  pointed. 

She  ^  began  to  discuss  with  Arthur  the  date  of 

115 


116  THE  MAGICIAN 

their  marriage.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  got 
out  of  Paris  all  it  could  give  her,  and  she  wished 
to  begin  a  new  life.  Her  love  for  Arthur  appeared 
on  a  sudden  more  urgent,  and  she  was  filled  with 
delight  at  the  thought  of  the  happiness  she  would 
give  him. 

A  day  or  two  later  Susie  received  a  telegram.  It 
ran  as  follows: 

"Please  meet  me  at  the  Gare  du  Nord,  2:40. 

"NANCY  CLERK." 

It  was  from  an  old  friend  who  was  apparently 
arriving  in  Paris  that  afternoon.  A  photograph  of 
her,  with  a  bold  signature,  stood  on  the  chimney- 
piece,  and  Susie  gave  it  an  inquisitive  glance.  She 
had  not  seen  Nancy  for  so  long  that  it  surprised 
her  to  receive  this  urgent  message. 

"What  a  bore  it  is!"  she  said.  "I  suppose  I 
must  go/' 

They  meant  to  have  tea  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  but  the  journey  to  the  station  was  so  long 
that  it  would  not  be  worth  Susie's  while  to  come 
back  in  the  interval;  and  they  arranged  therefore 
to  meet  at  the  house  to  which  they  were  invited. 
Susie  started  a  little  before  two. 

Margaret  had  a  class  that  afternoon  and  set  out 
two  or  three  minutes  later.  As  she  walked  through 
the  courtyard  she  started  nervously,  for  Oliver 
Haddo  passed  slowly  by.  He  did  not  seem  to  see 
her.  Suddenly  he  stopped,  put  his  hand  to  his 
heart,  and  fell  heavily  to  the  ground.  The  con- 
cierge, the  only  person  at  hand,  ran  forward  with 


THE  MAGICIAN  117 

a  cry.  She  knelt  down  and,  looking  round  with 
terror,  caught  sight  of  Margaret. 

"Oh,  mademoiselle,  venez  vite"  she  cried. 

Margaret  was  obliged  to  go.  Her  heart  beat 
horribly.  She  looked  down  at  Oliver,  and  he  seemed 
to  be  dead.  She  forgot  that  she  loathed  him.  In- 
stinctively she  knelt  down  by  his  side  and  loosened 
his  collar.  He  opened  his  eyes.  An  expression  of 
terrible  anguish  came  into  his  face. 

"For  the  love  of  God,  take  me  in  for  one  moment," 
he  sobbed.  "I  shall  die  in  the  street." 

Her  heart  was  moved  towards  him.  He  could 
not  go  into  the  poky  den,  evil-smelling  and  airless, 
of  the  concierge.  But  with  her  help  Margaret 
raised  him  to  his  feet,  and  together  they  brought 
him  to  the  studio.  He  sank  painfully  into  a  chair. 

"Shall  I  fetch  you  some  water?"  asked  Margaret. 

"Can  you  get  a  pastille  out  of  my  pocket?" 

He  swallowed  a  white  tabloid,  which  she  took 
out  of  a  case  attached  to  his  watch-chain. 

"I'm  very  sorry  to  cause  you  this  trouble,"  he 
gasped.  "I  suffer  from  a  disease  of  the  heart  and 
sometimes  I  am  very  near  death." 

"I'm  glad  that  I  was  able  to  help  you,"  she  said. 

He  seemed  able  to  breathe  more  easily.  She  left 
him  to  himself  for  a  while,  so  that  he  might  regain 
his  strength.  She  took  up  a  book  and  began  to  read. 
Presently,  without  moving  from  his  chair,  he  spoke. 

"You  must  hate  me  for  intruding  on  you." 

His  voice  was  stronger,  and  her  pity  waned  as 
he  seemed  to  recover.  She  answered  with  freezing 
indifference. 


118  THE  MAGICIAN 

"I  couldn't  do  any  less  for  you  than  I  did.  I 
would  have  brought  a  dog  into  my  room  if  it  seemed 
hurt." 

"I  see  that  you  wish  me  to  go." 

He  got  up  and  moved  towards  the  door,  but  he 
staggered  and  with  a  groan  tumbled  to  his  knees. 
Margaret  sprang  forward  to  help  him.  She  re- 
proached herself  bitterly  for  those  scornful  words. 
The  man  had  barely  escaped  death,  and  she  was 
merciless. 

"Oh,  please  stay  as  long  as  you  like,"  she  cried. 
"I'm  sorry,  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you." 

He  dragged  himself  with  difficulty  back  to  the 
chair,  and  she,  conscience-stricken,  stood  over  him 
helplessly.  She  poured  out  a  glass  of  water,  but 
he  motioned  it  away  as  though  he  would  not  be 
beholden  to  her  even  for  that. 

"Is  there  nothing  I  can  do  for  you  at  all?"  she 
exclaimed,  painfully. 

"Nothing,  except  allow  me  to  sit  in  this  chair," 
he  gasped. 

"I  hope  you'll  remain  as  long  as  you  choose." 

He  did  not  reply.  She  sat  down  again  and  pre- 
tended to  read.  In  a  little  while  he  began  to  speak. 
His  voice  reached  her  as  if  from  a  long  way  off. 

"Will  you  never  forgive  me  for  what  I  did  the 
other  day?" 

She  answered  without  looking  at  him,  her  back 
still  turned. 

"Can  it  matter  to  you  if  I  forgive  or  not?" 

"You  have  no  pity.  I  told  you  then  how  sorry  I 
was  that  a  sudden  uncontrollable  pain  drove  me  to 


THE  MAGICIAN  119 

do  a  thing  which  immediately  I  bitterly  regretted. 
Don't  you  think  it  must  have  been  hard  for  me, 
under  the  actual  circumstances,  to  confess  my 
fault?" 

"I  wish  you  not  to  speak  of  it.  I  don't  want  to 
think  of  that  horrible  scene." 

"If  you  knew  how  lonely  I  was  and  how  un- 
happy, you  would  have  a  little  mercy." 

His  voice  was  strangely  moved.  She  could  not 
doubt  now  that  he  was  sincere. 

"You  think  me  a  charlatan  because  I  aim  at 
things  that  are  unknown  to  you.  You  won't  try 
to  understand.  You  won't  give  me  any  credit  for 
striving  with  all  my  soul  to  a  very  great  end." 

She  made  no  reply,  and  for  a  time  there  was 
silence.  His  voice  was  different  now  and  curiously 
seductive. 

"You  look  upon  me  with  disgust  and  scorn.  You 
almost  persuaded  yourself  to  let  me  die  in  the 
street  rather  than  stretch  out  to  me  a  helping  hand. 
And  if  you  hadn't  been  merciful  then,  almost  against 
your  will,  I  should  have  died." 

"It  can  make  no  difference  to  you  how  I  regard 
you,"  she  whispered. 

She  did  not  know  why  his  soft,  low  tones  mys- 
teriously wrung  her  heartstrings.  Her  pulse  began 
to  beat  more  quickly. 

"It  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world.  It  is 
horrible  to  think  of  your  contempt.  I  feel  your 
goodness  and  your  purity.  I  can  hardly  bear  my 
own  unworthiness.  You  turn  your  eyes  away  from 
me  as  though  I  were  unclean." 


120  THE  MAGICIAN 

She  turned  her  chair  a  little  and  looked  at  him. 
She  was  astonished  at  the  change  in  his  appearance. 
His  hideous  obesity  seemed  no  longer  repellant,  for 
his  eyes  wore  a  new  expression;  they  were  incred- 
ibly tender  now,  and  they  were  moist  with  tears. 
His  mouth  was  tortured  by  a  passionate  distress. 
Margaret  had  never  seen  so  much  unhappiness  on 
a  man's  face,  and  an  overwhelming  remorse  seized 
her. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  unkind  to  you,"  she  said. 

"I  will  go.  That  is  how  I  can  best  repay  you  for 
what  you  have  done." 

The  words  were  so  bitter,  so  humiliated,  that  the 
colour  rose  to  her  cheeks. 

"I  ask  you  to  stay.  But  let  us  talk  of  other 
things." 

For  a  moment  he  kept  silence.  He  seemed  no 
longer  to  see  Margaret,  and  she  watched  him 
thoughtfully.  His  eyes  rested  on  a  print  of  La 
Gioconda  which  hung  on  the  wall.  Suddenly  he 
began  to  speak.  He  recited  the  honeyed  words 
with  which  Walter  Pater  expressed  his  admiration 
for  that  consummate  picture. 

"Hers  is  the  head  upon  which  all  the  ends  of 
the  world  are  come,  and  the  eyelids  are  a  little 
weary.  It  is  a  beauty  wrought  out  from  within 
upon  the  flesh,  the  deposit,  little  cell  by  cell,  of 
strange  thoughts  and  fantastic  reveries  and  exquisite 
passions.  Set  it  for  a  moment  beside  one  of  those 
white  Greek  goddesses  or  beautiful  women  of  an- 
tiquity, and  how  would  they  be  troubled  by  this 


THE  MAGICIAN  121 

beauty,  into  which  the  soul  with  all  its  maladies 
has  passed.  All  the  thoughts  and  experience  of 
the  world  have  etched  and  moulded  there,  in  that 
which  they  have  of  power  to  refine  and  make  vex- 
pressive  the  outward  form,  the  animalism  of  Greece, 
the  lust  of  Rome,  the  mysticism  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
with  its  spiritual  ambition  and  imaginative  loves,  the 
return  of  the  Pagan  world,  the  sins  of  the  Borgias." 

His  voice,  poignant  and  musical,  blended  with 
the  suave  music  of  the  words  so  that  Margaret  felt 
she  had  never  before  known  their  divine  signifi- 
cance. She  was  intoxicated  with  their  beauty.  She 
wished  him  to  continue,  but  had  not  the  strength 
to  speak.  As  if  he  guessed  her  thought,  he  went  on, 
and  now  his  voice  had  a  richness  in  it  as  of  an  organ 
heard  afar  off.  It  was  like  an  overwhelming  fra- 
grance, and  she  could  hardly  bear  it. 

"She  is  older  than  the  rocks  among  which  she 
sits;  like  the  vampire,  she  has  been  dead  many 
times,  and  learned  the  secrets  of  the  grave;  and  has 
been  a  diver  in  deep  seas,  and  keeps  their  fallen 
day  about  her;  and  trafficked  for  strange  evils  with 
Eastern  merchants;  and,  as  Leda,  was  the  mother 
of  Helen  of  Troy,  and,  as  Saint  Anne,  the  mother 
of  Mary;  and  all  this  has  been  to  her  but  as  the 
sound  of  lyres  and  flutes,  and  lives  only  in  the  deli- 
cacy with  which  it  has  moulded  the  changing  linea- 
ments, and  tinged  the  eyelids  and  the  hands." 

Oliver  Haddo  began  then  to  speak  of  Leonardo 


122  THE  MAGICIAN 

da  Vinci,  mingling  with  his  own  fantasies  the  per- 
fect words  of  that  essay  which,  so  wonderful  was 
his  memory,  he  seemed  almost  to  know  by  heart. 
He  found  exotic  fancies  in  the  likeness  between 
Saint  John  the  Baptist,  with  his  soft  flesh  and 
waving  hair,  and  Bacchus,  with  his  ambiguous 
smile.  Seen  through  his  eyes,  the  seashore  in  the 
Saint  Anne  had  the  airless  lethargy  of  some  dam- 
asked chapel  in  a  Spanish  nunnery,  and  over  the 
landscapes  brooded  a  wan  spirit  of  evil  that  was 
very  troubling.  He  loved  the  mysterious  pictures 
in  which  the  painter  has  sought  to  express  some- 
thing beyond  the  limits  of  painting,  something  of 
unsatisfied  desire  and  of  longing  for  unhuman  pas- 
sions. Oliver  Haddo  found  this  quality  in  unlikely 
places,  and  his  words  gave  a  new  meaning  to  paint- 
ings that  Margaret  had  passed  thoughtlessly  by. 
There  was  the  portrait  of  a  statuary  by  Bronziho 
in  the  Long  Gallery  of  the  Louvre.  The  features 
were  rather  large,  the  face  rather  broad.  The  ex- 
pression was  sombre,  almost  surly  in  the  repose  of 
the  painted  canvas,  and  the  eyes  were  brown, 
almond-shaped  like  those  of  an  Oriental;  the  red 
lips  were  exquisitely  modelled,  and  the  sensuality 
was  curiously  disturbing;  the  dark,  chestnut  hair, 
cut  short,  curled  over  the  head  with  an  infinite 
grace.  The  skin  was  like  ivory  softened  with  a 
delicate  carmine.  There  was  in  that  beautiful 
countenance  more  than  beauty,  for  what  most  fas- 
cinated the  observer  was  a  supreme  and  disdainful 
indifference  to  the  passion  of  others.  It  was  a 
vicious  face,  except  that  beauty  could  never  be 


THE  MAGICIAN  123 

quite  vicious;  it  was  a  cruel  face,  except  that  indo- 
lence could  never  be  quite  cruel.  It  was  a  face 
that  haunted  you,  and  yet  your  admiration  was 
alloyed  with  an  unreasoning  terror.  The  hands 
were  nervous  and  adroit,  with  long,  fashioning  fin- 
gers; and  you  felt  that  at  their  touch  the  clay  al- 
most moulded  itself  into  gracious  forms.  With 
Haddo's  subtle  words  the  character  of  that  man 
rose  before  her,  cruel  yet  indifferent,  indolent  and 
passionate,  cold  yet  sensual;  unnatural  secrets  dwelt 
in  his  mind,  and  mysterious  crimes,  and  a  lust  for 
the  knowledge  that  was  arcane.  Oliver  Haddo  was 
attracted  by  all  that  was  unusual,  deformed,  and 
monstrous,  by  the  pictures  that  represented  the  hide- 
ousness  of  man  or  that  reminded  you  of  his  mortality. 
He  summoned  before  Margaret  the  whole  array  of 
Ribera's  ghoulish  dwarfs,  with  their  cunning  smile, 
the  insane  light  of  their  eyes,  and  their  malice:  he 
dwelt  with  a  horrible  fascination  upon  their  mal- 
formations, the  humped  backs,  the  club  feet,  the 
hydrocephalic  heads.  He  described  the  picture  by 
Valdes  Leal  in  a  certain  place  at  Seville,  which  repre- 
sents a  priest  at  the  altar;  and  the  altar  is  sumptu- 
ous with  gilt  and  florid  carving.  He  wears  a  mag- 
nificent cope  and  a  surplice  of  exquisite  lace,  but  he 
wears  them  as  though  their  weight  was  more  than 
he  could  bear;  and  in  the  meagre  trembling  hands, 
and  in  the  white,  ashen  face,  in  the  dark  hollowness 
of  the  eyes,  there  is  a  bodily  corruption  that  is  terri- 
fying. He  seems  to  hold  together  with  difficulty 
the  bonds  of  the  flesh,  but  with  no  eager  yearning  of 
the  soul  to  burst  its  prison,  only  with  despair;  it  is 


124  THE  MAGICIAN 

as  if  the  Lord  Almighty  had  forsaken  him  and  the 
high  heavens  were  empty  of  their  solace.  All  the 
beauty  of  life  appears  forgotten,  and  there  is  nothing 
in  the  world  but  decay.  A  ghastly  putrefaction  has 
attacked  already  the  living  man;  the  worms  of  the 
grave,  the  piteous  horror  of  mortality,  and  the  dark- 
ness before  him,  offer  naught  but  fear.  Beyond, 
dark  night  is  seen  and  a  turbulent  sea,  the  dark  night 
of  the  soul  of  which  the  mystics  write,  and  the 
troublous  sea  of  life  whereon  there  is  no  refuge  for 
the  weary  and  the  sick  at  heart. 

Then,  as  if  in  pursuance  of  a  definite  plan,  he 
analysed  with  a  searching,  vehement  intensity  the 
curious  talent  of  the  modern  Frenchman,  Gustave 
Moreau.  Margaret  had  lately  visited  the  Luxem- 
bourg, and  his  pictures  were  fresh  in  her  memory. 
She  had  found  in  them  little  save  a  decorative  ar- 
rangement marred  by  faulty  drawing;  but  Oliver 
Haddo  gave  them  at  once  a  new,  esoteric  import. 
Those  effects  as  of  a  Florentine  jewel,  the  clus- 
tered colours  like  emeralds  and  rubies,  like  sap- 
phires deeper  than  the  sea,  the  atmosphere  of  scented 
chambers,  the  mystic  persons  who  seem  ever  about 
secret,  religious  rites,  combined  in  his  cunning 
phrases  to  create,  as  it  were,  a  pattern  on  her  soul 
of  morbid  and  mysterious  intricacy.  Those  pic- 
tures were  filled  with  a  strange  sense  of  sin,  and  the 
mind  that  contemplated  them  was  burdened  with 
the  decadence  of  Rome,  and  with  the  passionate  vice 
of  the  Renaissance;  and  it  was  tortured,  too,  by  all 
the  introspections  of  this  later  day. 

Margaret  listened,  rather  breathlessly,  with  the 


THE  MAGICIAN  125 

excitement  of  an  explorer  before  whom  is  spread 
out  the  plain  of  an  undiscovered  continent.  The 
painters  she  knew  spoke  of  their  art  technically, 
and  this  imaginative  appreciation  was  new  to  her. 
She  was  horribly  fascinated  by  the  personality  that 
imbued  these  elaborate  sentences.  Haddo's  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  hers,  and  she  responded  to  his 
words  like  a  delicate  instrumerit  made  for  recording 
the  beatings  of  the  heart.  She  felt  an  extraordi- 
nary languor.  At  last  he  stopped.  Margaret  neither 
moved  nor  spoke.  She  might  have  been  under  some 
spell.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  no  power  in 
her  limbs. 

"I  want  to  do  something  for  you  in  return  for 
what  you  have  done  for  me,"  he  said. 

He  stood  up  and  went  to  the  piano. 

"Sit  in  this  chair,"  he  said. 

She  did  not  dream  of  disobeying.  He  began  to 
play.  Margaret  was  hardly  surprised  that  he  played 
marvellously.  Yet  it  was  almost  incredible  that 
those  fat,  large  hands  should  have  such  a  tenderness 
of  touch.  His  fingers  caressed  the  notes  with  a 
peculiar  suavity,  and  he  drew  out  of  the  piano  effects 
which  she  had  scarcely  thought  possible.  He  seemed 
to  put  into  the  notes  a  troubling,  ambiguous  passion, 
and  the  instrument  had  the  tremulous  emotion  of  a 
human  being.  It  was  very  strange  and  rather  terri- 
fying. She  was  vaguely  familiar  with  the  music  to 
which  she  listened;  but  there  was  in  it,  under  his 
fingers,  an  exotic  savour  that  made  it  harmonious 
with  all  that  he  had  said  that  afternoon.  His  mem- 
ory was  indeed  astonishing.  He  had  an  infinite  tact 


126  THE  MAGICIAN 

to  know  the  feeling  that  occupied  Margaret's  heart, 
and  what  he  chose  seemed  to  be  exactly  that  which 
at  the  moment  she  imperatively  needed.  Then  he 
began  to  play  things  she  did  not  know.  It  was 
music  the  like  of  which  she  had  never  heard,  bar- 
baric, with  a  plaintive  weirdness  that  brought  to  her 
fancy  the  moonlit  nights  of  desert  places,  with 
palm-trees  mute  in  the  windless  air,  and  tawny  dis- 
tances. She  seemed  to  know  tortuous  narrow 
streets,  white  houses  of  silence  with  strange  moon- 
shadows,  and  the  glow  of  yellow  light  within,  and 
the  tinkling  of  uncouth  instruments,  and  the  acrid 
scents  of  Eastern  perfumes.  It  was  like  a  proces- 
sion passing  through  her  mind  of  persons  who  were 
not  human,  yet  existed  mysteriously,  with  a  life  of 
vampires.  Monna  Lisa  and  Saint  John  the  Bap- 
tist, Bacchus  and  the  mother  of  Mary,  went  with 
enigmatic  motions.  But  the  daughter  of  Herodias 
raised  her  hands  as  though,  engaged  for  ever  in  a 
mystic  rite,  to  invoke  outlandish  gods.  Her  face 
was  very  pale,  and  her  dark  eyes  were  sleepless; 
the  jewels  of  her  girdle  gleamed  with  sombre  fires; 
and  her  dress  was  of  colours  that  have  long  been 
lost.  The  smile,  in  which  was  all  the  sorrow  of 
the  world  and  all  its  wickedness,  beheld  the  wan 
head  of  the  Saint,  and  with  a  voice  that  was  cold 
with  the  coldness  of  death  she  murmured  the  words 
of  the  poet: 

"I  am  amorous  of  thy  body,  lokanaam!  Thy 
body  is  white  like  the  lilies  of  a  field  that  the  mower 
hath  never  mowed.  Thy  body  is  white  like  the 


THE  MAGICIAN  127 

snows  that  lie  on  the  mountains  of  Judaea,  and  come 
down  into  the  valleys.  The  roses  in  the  garden  of 
the  Queen  of  Arabia  are  not  so  white  as  thy  body. 
Neither  the  roses  in  the  garden  of  the  Queen  of 
Arabia,  the  garden  of  spices  of  the  Queen  of  Arabia, 
nor  the  feet  of  the  dawn  when  they  light  on  the 
leaves,  nor  the  breast  of  the  moon  when  she  lies  on 
the  breast  of  the  sea  .  .  .  There  is  nothing  in  the 
world  so  white  as  thy  body.  Suffer  me  to  touch 
thy  body." 

Oliver  Haddo  ceased  to  play.  Neither  of  them 
stirred.  At  last  Margaret  sought  by  an  effort  to 
regain  her  self-control. 

"I  shall  begin  to  think  that  you  really  are  a 
magician,"  she  said,  lightly. 

"I  could  show  you  strange  things  if  you  cared 
to  see  them,"  he  answered,  again  raising  his  eyes 
to  hers. 

"I  don't  think  you  will  ever  get  me  to  believe  in 
occult  philosophy,"  she  laughed. 

"Yet  it  reigned  in  Persia  with  the  magi,  it  en- 
dowed India  with  wonderful  traditions,  it  civilised 
Greece  to  the  sounds  of  Orpheus'  lyre." 

He  stood  before  Margaret,  towering  over  her  in 
his  huge  bulk;  and  there  was  a  singular  fascination 
in  his  gaze.  It  seemed  that  he  spoke  only  to  conceal 
from  her  that  he  was  putting  forth  now  all  the  power 
that  was  in  him. 

"It  concealed  the  first  principles  of  science  in  the 
calculations  of  Pythagoras.  It  established  empires 
by  its  oracles,  and  at  its  voice  tyrants  grew  pale 


128  THE  MAGICIAN 

upon  their  thrones.  It  governed  the  minds  of  some 
by  curiosity,  and  others  it  ruled  by  fear." 

His  voice  grew  very  low,  and  it  was  so  seductive 
that  Margaret's  brain  reeled.  The  sound  of  it  was 
overpowering  like  too  sweet  a  fragrance. 

"I  tell  you  that  for  this  art  nothing  is  impossible. 
It  commands  the  elements,  and  knows  the  language 
of  the  stars,  and  directs  the  planets  in  their  courses. 
The  moon  at  its  bidding  falls  blood  red  from  the 
sky.  The  dead  rise  up  and  form  into  ominous  words 
the  night  wind  that  moans  through  their  skulls. 
Heaven  and  Hell  are  in  its  province;  and  all  forms, 
lovely  and  hideous;  and  love  and  hate.  With  Circe's 
wand  it  can  change  men  into  beasts  of  the  field,  and 
to  them  it  can  give  a  monstrous  humanity.  Life  and 
death  are  in  the  right  hand  and  in  the  left  of  him 
who  knows  its  secrets.  It  confers  wealth  by  the 
transmutation  of  metals  and  immortality  by  its 
quintessence." 

Margaret  could  not  hear  what  he  said.  A  grad- 
ual lethargy  seized  her  under  his  baleful  glance, 
and  she  had  not  even  the  strength  to  wish  to  free 
herself.  She  seemed  bound  to  him  already  by  hid- 
den chains. 

"If  you  have  powers  show  them,"  she  whispered, 
hardly  conscious  that  she  spoke. 

Suddenly  he  released  the  enormous  tension  with 
which  he  held  her.  Like  a  man  who  had  exerted 
all  his  strength  to  some  end,  the  victory  won,  he 
loosened  his  muscles,  with  a  faint  sigh  of  exhaustion. 
Margaret  did  not  speak,  but  she  knew  that  some- 
thing horrible  was  about  to  happen.  Her  heart  beat 


THE  MAGICIAN  129 

like  a  prisoned. bird,  with  helpless  flutterings,  but  it 
seemed  too  late  now  to  draw  back*  Her  words  by 
a  mystic  influence  had  settled  something  beyond 
possibility  of  recall. 

On  the  stove  was  a  small  bowl  of  polished  brass 
in  which  water  was  kept  in  order  to  give  a  certain 
moisture  to  the  air.  Oliver  Haddo  put  his  hand  in 
his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  little  silver  box.  He 
tapped  it,  with  a  smile,  as  a  man  taps  a  snuff-box, 
and  opened  it.  He  took  an  infinitesimal  quantity 
of  a  blue  powder  that  it  contained  and  threw  it  on 
the  water  in  the  brass  bowl.  Immediately  a  bright 
flame  sprang  up,  and  Margaret  gave  a  cry  of  alarm. 
Oliver  looked  at  her  quickly  and  motioned  her  to 
remain  still.  She  saw  that  the  water  was  on  fire. 
It  was  burning  as  brilliantly,  as  hotly  as  if  it  were 
common  gas;  and  it  burned  with  the  same  dry 
hoarse  roar.  Suddenly  it  was  extinguished.  She 
leaned  forward  and  saw  that  the  bowl  was  empty. 

The  water  had  been  utterly  consumed,  as  though 
it  were  straw,  and  not  a  drop  remained.  She  passed 
her  hand  absently  across  her  forehead. 

"But  water  cannot  burn,"  she  muttered  to 
herself. 

It  seemed  that  Haddo  knew  what  she  thought, 
for  he  smiled  strangely. 

"Do  you  know  that  nothing  more  destructive 
can  be  invented  than  this  blue  powder,  and  I  have 
enough  to  burn  up  all  the  water  in  Paris?  Who 
dreamt  that  water  might  be  burnt  like  chaff  ?" 

He  paused,  seeming  to  forget  her  presence.  He 
looked  thoughtfully  at  the  little  silver  box. 


130  THE  MAGICIAN 

"But  it  can  be  made  only  in  trivial  quantities,  at 
enormous  expense  and  with  exceeding  labour;  it  is 
so  volatile  that  you  cannot  keep  it  for  three  days. 
I  have  sometimes  thought  that  with  a  little  ingenu- 
ity I  might  make  it  more  stable,  I  might  so  modify 
it  that,  like  radium,  it  lost  no  strength  as  it  burned; 
and  then  I  should  possess  the  greatest  secret  that 
had  ever  been  in  the  mind  of  man.  For  there  would 
be  no  end  of  it.  It  would  continue  to  burn  while 
there  was  a  drop  of  water  on  the  earth,  and  the 
whole  world  would  be  consumed.  But  it  would  be 
a  frightful  thing  to  have  in  one's  hands;  for  once  it 
were  cast  upon  the  waters,  the  doom  of  all  that 
existed  would  be  sealed  beyond  repeal." 

He  took  a  long  breath,  and  his  eyes  glittered  with 
a  devilish  ardour.  His  voice  was  hoarse  with  over- 
whelming emotion. 

"Sometimes  I  am  haunted  by  the  wild  desire  to 
have  seen  that  great  and  final  scene  when  the  irrev- 
ocable flames  poured  down  the  river,  hurrying 
along  the  streams  of  the  earth,  searching  out  the 
moisture  in  all  growing  things,  tearing  it  even  from 
the  eternal  rocks;  when  the  flames  poured  down  like 
the  rushing  of  the  wind,  and  all  that  lived  fled 
from  before  them  till  they  came  to  the  sea;  and  the 
sea  itself  was  consumed  in  vehement  fire." 

Margaret  shuddered,  but  she  did  not  think  the 
man  was  mad.  She  had  ceased  to  judge  him.  He 
took  one  more  particle  of  that  atrocious  powder 
and  put  it  in  the  bowl.  Again  he  thrust  his  hand 
in  his  pocket  and  brought  out  a  handful  of  some 
crumbling  substance  that  might  have  been  dried 


THE  MAGICIAN  131 

leaves,  leaves  of  different  sorts,  broken  and  pow- 
dery. There  was  a  trace  of  moisture  in  them  still, 
for  a  low  flame  sprang  up  immediately  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  dish,  and  a  thick  vapour  filled  the  room. 
It  had  a  singular  and  pungent  odour  that  Margaret 
did  not  know.  It  was  difficult  to  breathe,  and  she 
coughed.  She  wanted  to  beg  Oliver  to  stop,  but 
could  not.  He  took  the  bowl  in  his  hands  and 
brought  it  to  her. 

"Look,"  he  commanded. 

She  bent  forward,  and  at  the  bottom  saw  a  blue 
fire,  of  a  peculiar  solidity,  as  though  it  consisted 
of  molten  metal.  It  was  not  still,  but  writhed 
strangely,  like  serpents  of  fire  tortured  by  their 
own  unearthly  ardour. 

"Breathe  very  deeply." 

She  did  as  he  told  her.  A  sudden  trembling 
came  over  her,  and  darkness  fell  across  her  eyes. 
She  tried  to  cry  out,  but  could  utter  no  sound.  Her 
brain  reeled.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Haddo  bade 
her  cover  her  face.  She  gasped  for  breath,  and  it 
was  as  if  the  earth  spun  under  her  feet.  She  ap- 
peared to  travel  at  an  immeasurable  speed.  She 
made  a  slight  movement,  and  Haddo  told  her  not 
to  look  round.  An  immense  terror  seized  her.  She 
did  not  know  whither  she  was  borne,  and  still 
they  went  quickly,  quickly;  and  the  hurricane  it- 
self would  have  lagged  behind  them.  At  last  their 
motion  ceased,  and  Oliver  was  holding  her  arm. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  he  said.  "Open  your  eyes  and 
stand  up." 

The  night  had  fallen;  but  it  was  not  the  comfort- 


132  THE  MAGICIAN 

able  night  that  soothes  the  troubled  minds  of  mortal 
men;  it  was  a  night  that  agitated  the  soul  mys- 
teriously so  that  each  nerve  in  the  body  tingled. 
There  was  a  lurid  darkness  which  displayed  and 
yet  distorted  the  objects  that  surrounded  them. 
No  moon  shone  in  the  sky,  but  small  stars  appeared 
to  dance  on  the  heather,  vague  night-fires  like  spirits 
of  the  damned.  They  stood  in  a  vast  and  troubled 
waste,  with  huge  stony  boulders  and  leafless  trees, 
rugged  and  gnarled  like  tortured  souls  in  pain.  It 
was  as  if  there  had  been  a  devastating  storm,  and 
the  country  reposed  after  the  flood  of  rain  and  the 
tempestuous  wind  and  the  lightning.  All  things 
about  them  appeared  dumbly  to  suffer,  like  a  man 
racked  by  torments  who  has  not  the  strength  even 
to  realise  that  his  agony  has  ceased.  Margaret 
heard  the  flight  of  monstrous  birds,  and  they  seemed 
to  whisper  strange  things  on  their  passage.  Oliver 
took  her  hand.  He  led  her  steadily  to  a  cross- 
road, and  she  did  not  know  if  they  walked  amid 
rocks  or  tombs. 

She  heard  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  from  all 
parts,  strangely  appearing  where  before  was  noth- 
ing, a  turbulent  assembly  surged  about  her.  That 
vast  empty  space  was  suddenly  filled  by  shadowy 
forms,  and  they  swept  along  like  the  waves  of  the 
sea,  crowding  upon  one  another's  heels.  And  it 
seemed  that  all  the  mighty  dead  appeared  before 
her;  and  she  saw  grim  tyrants,  and  painted  cour- 
tesans, and  Roman  emperors  in  their  purple,  and 
sultans  of  the  East.  All  those  fierce  evil  women  of 
olden  time  passed  by  her  side,  and  now  it  was  Monna 


THE  MAGICIAN  133 

Lisa  and  now  the  subtle  daughter  of  Herodias.  And 
Jezebel  looked  out  upon  her  from  beneath  her 
painted  brows,  and  Cleopatra  turned  away  a  wan, 
lewd  face;  and  she  saw  the  insatiable  mouth  and 
the  wanton  eyes  of  Messalina,  and  Faustine  was 
haggard  with  the  eternal  fires  of  lust.  She  saw 
cardinals  in  their  scarlet,  and  warriors  in  their  steel, 
gay  gentlemen  in  periwigs,  and  ladies  in  powder 
and  patch.  And  on  a  sudden,  like  leaves  by  the 
wind,  all  these  were  driven  before  the  silent  throngs 
of  the  oppressed;  and  they  were  innumerable  as  the 
sands  of  the  sea.  Their  thin  faces  were  earthy  with 
want  and  cavernous  from  disease,  and  their  eyes 
were  dull  with  despair.  They  passed  in  their  tat- 
tered motley,  some  in  the  fantastic  rags  of  the 
beggars  of  Albrecht  Diirer  and  some  in  the  grey 
cerecloths  of  Le  Nain;  many  wore  the  blouses  and 
the  caps  of  the  rabble  in  France,  and  many  the 
dingy,  smoke-grimed  weeds  of  English  poor.  And' 
they  surged  onward  like  a  riotous  crowd  in  narrow 
streets  flying  in  terror  before  the  mounted  troops. 
It  seemed  as  though  all  the  world  were  gathered 
there  in  strange  confusion. 

Then  all  again  was  void;  and  Margaret's  gaze 
was  riveted  upon  a  great,  ruined  tree  that  stood  in 
that  waste  place,  alone,  in  ghastly  desolation;  and 
though  a  dead  thing  it  seemed  to  suffer  a  more 
than  human  pain.  The  lightning  had  torn  it  asunder, 
but  the  wind  of  centuries  had  sought  in  vain  to  drag 
up  its  roots.  The  tortured  branches,  bare  of  any 
twig,  were  like  a  Titan's  arms,  convulsed  with  intoler- 
able anguish.  And  in  a  moment  she  grew  sick  with 


134  THE  MAGICIAN 

fear,  for  a  change  came  into  the  tree,  and  the  tremu- 
lousness  of  life  was  in  it;  the  rough  bark  was  changed 
into  brutish  flesh  and  the  twisted  branches  into 
human  arms.  It  became  a  monstrous,  goat-legged 
thing,  more  vast  than  the  creatures  of  nightmare. 
She  saw  the  horns  and  the  long  beard,  the  great  hairy 
legs  with  their  hoofs,  and  the  man's  rapacious  hands. 
The  face  was  horrible  with  lust  and  cruelty,  and  yet 
it  was  divine.  It  was  Pan,  playing  on  his  pipes,  and 
the  lecherous  eyes  caressed  her  with  a  hideous  ten- 
derness. But  even  while  she  looked,  as  the  mist  of 
early  day,  rising,  discloses  a  fair  country,  the  ani- 
mal part  of  that  ghoulish  creature  seemed  to  fall 
away,  and  she  saw  a  lovely  youth,  titanic  but 
sublime,  leaning  against  a  massive  rock.  He  was 
more  beautiful  than  the  Adam  of  Michael  Angelo 
who  wakes  into  life  at  the  call  of  the  Almighty; 
and,  like  him  freshly  created,  he  had  the  adorable 
languor  of  one  who  feels  still  in  his  limbs  the  soft 
rain  on  the  loose  brown  earth.  Naked  and  full  of 
majesty  he  lay,  the  outcast  son  of  the  morning;  and 
she  dared  not  look  upon  his  face,  for  she  knew  it 
was  impossible  to  bear  the  undying  pain  that  dark- 
ened it  with  ruthless  shadows.  Impelled  by  a  great 
curiosity,  she  sought  to  come  nearer,  but  the  vast 
figure  seemed  strangely  to  dissolve  into  a  cloud; 
and  immediately  she  felt  herself  again  surrounded 
by  a  hurrying  throng.  Then  came  all  legendary 
monsters  and  foul  beasts  of  a  madman's  fancy;  in  the 
darkness  she  saw  enormous  toads,  with  paws  pressed 
to  their  flanks,  and  huge  limping  scarabs,  shelled 
creatures  the  like  of  which  she  had  never  seen, 


THE  MAGICIAN  135 

and  noisome  brutes  with  horny  scales  and  round 
crabs'  eyes,  uncouth  primeval  things,  and  winged 
serpents,  and  creeping  animals  begotten  of  the 
slime.  She  heard  shrill  cries  and  peals  of  laughter 
and  the  terrifying  rattle  of  men  at  the  point  of 
death.  Haggard  women,  dishevelled  and  lewd, 
carried  wine;  and  when  they  spilt  it  there  were 
stains  like  the  stains  of  blood.  And  it  seemed  to 
Margaret  that  a  fire  burned  in  her  veins,  and  her 
soul  fled  from  her  body;  but  a  new  soul  came  in  its 
place,  and  suddenly  she  knew  all  that  was  obscene. 
She  took  part  in  some  festival  of  hideous  lust,  and 
the  wickedness  of  the  world  was  patent  to  her  eyes. 
She  saw  things  so  vile  that  she  screamed  in  terror, 
and  she  heard  Oliver  laugh  in  derision  by  her  side. 
It  was  a  scene  of  indescribable  horror,  and  she  put 
her  hands  to  her  eyes  so  that  she  might  not  see. 

She  felt  Oliver  Haddo  take  her  hands.  She 
would  not  let  him  drag  them  away.  Then  she 
heard  him  speak. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid." 

His  voice  was  quite  natural  once  more,  and  she 
realised  with  a  start  that  she  was  sitting  quietly  in 
the  studio.  She  looked  around  her  with  frightened 
eyes.  Everything  was  exactly  as  it  had  been.  The 
early  night  of  autumn  was  fallen,  and  the  only  light 
in  the  room  came  from  the  fire.  There  was  still 
that  vague,  acrid  scent  of  the  substance  which 
Haddo  had  burned. 

"Shall  I  light  the  candles? "he  said. 

He  struck  a  match  and  lit  those  which  were  on 
the  piano.  They  threw  a  singular  light.  Then 


138  THE  MAGICIAN 

"I  suppose  no  one  has  been  here?"  asked  Susie. 

"No  one." 

The  lie  slipped  from  Margaret's  lips  before  she 
had  made  up  her  mind  to  tell  it.  Her  heart  gave  a 
great  beat  against  her  chest.  She  felt  herself  redden. 

Susie  got  up  to  light  a  cigarette.  She  wished  to 
rest  her  nerves.  The  box  was  on  the  table,  and,  as 
she  helped  herself,  her  eyes  fell  carelessly  on  the 
address  that  Haddo  had  left.  She  picked  it  up  and 
read  it  aloud. 

"Who  on  earth  lives  there?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know  at  all,"  answered  Margaret. 

She  braced  herself  for  further  questions,  but  Susie, 
without  interest,  put  down  the  sheet  of  paper  and 
struck  a  match. 

Margaret  was  ashamed.  Her  nature  was  singu- 
larly truthful,  and  it  troubled  her  extraordinarily 
that  she  had  lied  to  her  greatest  friend.  Something 
stronger  than  herself  seemed  to  impel  her.  She 
would  have  given  much  to  confess  her  two  false- 
hoods, but  had  not  the  courage.  She  could  not  bear 
that  Susie's  implicit  trust  in  her  straightforwardness 
should  be  destroyed;  and  the  admission  that  Oliver 
Haddo  had  been  there  would  entail  a  further  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  nameless  horrors  she  had  wit- 
nessed. Susie  would  think  her  mad. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door;  and  Margaret, 
her  nerves  shattered  by  all  that  she  had  endured, 
could  hardly  restrain  a  cry  of  terror.  She  feared 
that  Haddo  had  returned.  But  it  was  Arthur  Bur- 
don.  She  greeted  him  with  a  passionate  relief  that 
was  unusual,  for  she  was  by  nature  a  woman  of  great 


THE  MAGICIAN  137 

"I  had  a  dreadful  headache,"  answered  Margaret, 
trying  to  control  herself. 

Susie  flung  herself  down  wearily  in  a  chair.  Mar- 
garet forced  herself  to  speak. 

"Had  Nancy  anything  particular  to  say  to  you?" 
she  asked. 

"She  never  turned  up,"  answered  Susie  irritably. 
"I  can't  understand  it.  I  waited  till  the  train  came 
in,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  her.  Then  I  thought 
she  might  have  hit  upon  that  time  by  chance  and 
was  not  coming  from  England,  so  I  walked  about 
the  station  for  half  an  hour." 

She  went  to  the  chimneypiece,  on  which  had  been 
left  the  telegram  that  summoned  her  to  the  Gare 
du  Nord,  and  read  it  again.  She  gave  a  little  cry 
of  surprise. 

"How  stupid  of  me!  I  never  noticed  the  post- 
mark. It  was  sent  from  the  RueJLittre." 

This  was  less  than  ten  minutes'  walk  from  the 
studio.  Susie  looked  at  the  message  with  perplexity. 

"I  wonder  if  someone  has  been  playing  a  silly 
practical  joke  on  me."  She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"  But  it's  too  foolish.  If  I  were  a  suspicious  woman," 
she  smiled,  "I  should  think  you  had  sent  it  yourself 
to  get  me  out  of  the  way." 

The  idea  flashed  through  Margaret  that  Oliver 
Haddo  was  the  author  of  it.  He  might  easily  have 
seen  Nancy's  name  on  the  photograph  during  his 
first  visit  to  the  studio.  She  had  no  time  to  think 
before  she  answered  lightly. 

"If  I  wanted  to  get  rid  of  you  I  should  have  no 
hesitation  in  saying  so." 


138  THE  MAGICIAN 

"I  suppose  no  one  has  been  here?"  asked  Susie. 

"No  one." 

The  lie  slipped  from  Margaret's  lips  before  she 
had  made  up  her  mind  to  tell  it.  Her  heart  gave  a 
great  beat  against  her  chest.  She  felt  herself  redden. 

Susie  got  up  to  light  a  cigarette.  She  wished  to 
rest  her  nerves.  The  box  was  on  the  table,  and,  as 
she  helped  herself,  her  eyes  fell  carelessly  on  the 
address  that  Haddo  had  left.  She  picked  it  up  and 
read  it  aloud. 

"Who  on  earth  lives  there?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know  at  all,"  answered  Margaret. 

She  braced  herself  for  further  questions,  but  Susie, 
without  interest,  put  down  the  sheet  of  paper  and 
struck  a  match. 

Margaret  was  ashamed.  Her  nature  was  singu- 
larly truthful,  and  it  troubled  her  extraordinarily 
that  she  had  lied  to  her  greatest  friend.  Something 
stronger  than  herself  seemed  to  impel  her.  She 
would  have  given  much  to  confess  her  two  false- 
hoods, but  had  not  the  courage.  She  could  not  bear 
that  Susie's  implicit  trust  in  her  straightforwardness 
should  be  destroyed;  and  the  admission  that  Oliver 
Haddo  had  been  there  would  entail  a  further  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  nameless  horrors  she  had  wit- 
nessed. Susie  would  think  her  mad. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door;  and  Margaret, 
her  nerves  shattered  by  all  that  she  had  endured, 
could  hardly  restrain  a  cry  of  terror.  She  feared 
that  Haddo  had  returned.  But  it  was  Arthur  Bur- 
don.  She  greeted  him  with  a  passionate  relief  that 
was  unusual,  for  she  was  by  nature  a  woman  of  great 


THE  MAGICIAN  139 

self-possession.  She  felt  excessively  weak,  physically 
exhausted  as  though  she  had  gone  a  long  journey, 
and  her  mind  was  highly  wrought.  Margaret  re- 
membered that  her  state  had  been  the  same  on  her 
first  arrival  in  Paris  when,  in  her  eagerness  to  get  a 
preliminary  glimpse  of  its  marvels,  she  had  hurried 
till  her  bones  ached  from  one  celebrated  monument 
to  another.  They  began  to  speak  of  trivial  things. 
Margaret  tried  to  join  calmly  in  the  conversation, 
but  her  voice  sounded  unnatural,  and  she  fancied 
that  more  than  once  Arthur  gave  her  a  curious  look. 
At  length  she  could  control  herself  no  longer  and 
burst  into  a  sudden  flood  of  tears.  In  a  moment, 
uncomprehending  but  affectionate,  he  caught  her 
in  his  arms.  He  asked  tenderly  what  was  the  matter. 
He  sought  to  comfort  her.  She  wept  ungovernably, 
clinging  to  him  for  protection. 

"Oh,  it's  nothing,"  she  gasped.  "I  don't  know 
what  is  the  matter  with  me.  I'm  only  nervous  and 
frightened." 

Arthur  had  an  idea  that  women  were  often  afflicted 
with  what  he  described  by  the  old-fashioned  name 
of  vapours,  and  was  not  disposed  to  pay  much 
attention  to  this  vehement  distress.  He  soothed 
her  as  he  would  have  done  a  child. 

"Oh,  take  care  of  me,  Arthur.  I'm  so  afraid 
that  some  dreadful  thing  will  happen  to  me,  I 
want  all  your  strength.  Promise  that  you'll  never 
forsake  me." 

He  laughed,  as  he  kissed  away  her  tears,  and 
she  tried  to  smile. 

"Why  can't  we  be  married  at  once?"  she  asked. 


140  THE  MAGICIAN 

"I  don't  want  to  wait  any  longer.  I  shan't  feel 
safe  till  I'm  actually  your  wife." 

He  reasoned  with  her  very  gently.  After  all  they 
were  to  be  married  in  a  few  weeks.  They  could  not 
easily  hasten  matters,  for  their  house  was  not  yet 
ready,  and  she  needed  time  to  get  her  clothes.  The 
date  had  been  fixed  by  her.  She  listened  sullenly  to 
his  words.  Their  wisdom  was  plain,  and  she  did 
not  see  how  she  could  possibly  insist.  Even  if  she 
told  him  all  that  had  passed  he  would  not  believe 
her;  he  would  think  she  was  suffering  from  some 
trick  of  her  morbid  fancy. 

"If  anything  happens  to  me,"  she  answered,  with 
the  dark,  anguished  eyes  of  a  hunted  beast,  "you 
will  be  to  blame." 

"I  promise  you  that  nothing  will  happen." 


Chapter  IX 

MARGARETS  night  was  disturbed,  and  next 
day  she  could  not  go  about  her  work  with  her 
usual  tranquillity.  She  tried  to  reason  herself  into 
a  natural  explanation  of  the  events  that  had  hap- 
pened. The  telegram  which  Susie  had  received 
pointed  to  a  definite  scheme  on  Haddo's  part,  and 
suggested  that  his  sudden  illness  was  but  a  device 
to  get  into  the  studio.  Once  there  he  had  used  her 
natural  sympathy  as  a  means  whereby  to  exercise 
his  great  hypnotic  power,  and  all  she  had  seen  was 
merely  the  creation  of  his  own  libidinous  fancy.  But 
though  she  sought  to  persuade  herself  that,  in  play- 
ing a  vile  trick  on  her,  he  had  taken  a  shameful 
advantage  of  her  pity,  she  could  not  look  upon 
him  with  anger.  Her  contempt  for  him,  her  utter 
loathing,  had  vanished  before  a  feeling  that  aroused 
in  her  horror  and  dismay.  She  could  not  get  the 
man  out  of  her  thoughts.  All  that  he  had  said,  all 
that  she  had  seen,  seemed,  as  though  it  possessed  a 
power  of  material  growth,  unaccountably  to  increase 
in  her.  It  was  as  if  a  rank  weed  were  planted  in  her 
heart  and  slid  long  poisonous  tentacles  down  every 
artery,  so  that  each  part  of  her  body  was  enmeshed. 
Work  could  not  distract  her,  conversation,  exercise, 
art,  left  her  still  absorbed;  and  between  her  and  all 
the  actions  of  life  stood  the  flamboyant,  burly  form 

141 


142  THE  MAGICIAN 

of  Oliver  Haddo.  She  was  terrified  of  him  now  as 
never  before,  but  curiously  had  no  longer  the  physi- 
cal repulsion  which  hitherto  had  mastered  all  other 
feelings.  Although  she  repeated  to  herself  that  she 
wanted  never  to  see  him  again,  Margaret  could 
scarcely  resist  an  overwhelming  desire  to  go  to  him. 
Her  will  had  been  taken  from  her,  and  she  was  an 
automaton.  She  struggled,  like  a  bird  in  the  fowler's 
net  with  useless  beating  of  the  wings;  but  at  the 
bottom  of  her  heart  she  was  dimly  conscious  that 
she  did  not  want  to  resist.  If  he  had  given  her  that 
address  it  was  because  he  knew  she  would  use  it. 
She  did  not  know  why  she  wanted  to  go  to  him;  she 
had  nothing  to  say  to  him;  she  knew  only  that  it  was 
necessary  to  go.  But  a  few  days  before  she  had 
seen  the  Phedre  of  Racine,  and  she  felt  on  a  sudden 
all  the  torments  that  wrung  the  heart  of  that  un- 
happy queen;  she,  too,  struggled  aimlessly  to  escape 
from  the  poison  that  the  immortal  gods  poured  in 
her  veins.  She  asked  herself  frantically  whether  a 
spell  had  been  cast  over  her,  for  now  she  was  willing 
to  believe  that  Haddo's  power  was  all-embracing. 
Margaret  knew  that  if  she  yielded  to  the  horrible 
temptation  nothing  could  save  her  from  destruction. 
She  would  have  cried  for  help  to  Arthur  or  to  Susie, 
but  something,  she  knew  not  what,  utterly  prevented 
her.  At  length,  driven  almost  to  distraction,  she 
thought  that  Dr.  Porhoet  might  do  something  for 
her.  He,  at  least,  would  understand  her  misery. 
There  seemed  not  a  moment  to  lose,  and  she  has- 
tened to  his  house.  They  told  her  he  was  out.  Her 
heart  sank,  for  it  seemed  that  her  last  hope  was 


THE  MAGICIAN  143 

gone.  She  was  like  a  person  drowning,  who  clings 
to  a  rock;  and  the  waves  dash  against  him,  and  beat 
upon  his  bleeding  hands  with  human  malice  as  if  to 
tear  them  from  their  refuge. 

Instead  of  going  to  the  sketch-class,  which  was 
held  at  six  in  the  evening,  she  hurried  to  the  ad- 
dress that  Oliver  Haddo  had  given.  She  went 
along  the  crowded  street  stealthily,  as  though  afraid 
that  someone  would  see  her,  and  her  heart  was  in 
a  turmoil.  She  desired  with  all  her  might  not  to 
go,  and  sought  vehemently  to  prevent  herself,  and 
yet  withal  she  went.  She  ran  up  the  stairs  and 
knocked  at  the  door.  She  remembered  his  direc- 
tions distinctly.  In  a  moment  Oliver  Haddo  stood 
before  her.  He  did  not  seem  astonished  that  she 
was  there.  As  she  stood  on  the  landing  it  occurred 
to  her  suddenly  that  she  had  no  reason  to  offer  for 
her  visit,  but  his  words  saved  her  from  any  need 
for  explanation. 

"I've  been  waiting  for  you,"  he  said. 

Haddo  led  her  into  a  sitting-room.  He  had  an 
apartment  in  a  maison  meublee,  and  the  heavy 
hangings,  the  solid  vulgar  furniture  of  that  sort  of 
house  in  Paris,  was  unexpected  in  connection  with 
him.  The  surroundings  were  so  commonplace  that 
they  seemed  to  emphasize  his  singularity.  There 
was  a  peculiar  lack  of  comfort,  which  showed  that 
he  was  indifferent  to  material  things.  The  room 
was  large,  but  so  cumbered  that  it  gave  a  cramped 
impression.  Haddo  dwelt  there  as  if  he  were  apart 
from  any  habitation  that  might  be  his.  He  moved 
cautiously  among  the  heavy  furniture,  and  his 


144  THE  MAGICIAN 

great  obesity  was  somehow  more  remarkable. 
There  was  the  acrid  perfume  which  Margaret  re- 
membered a  few  days  before  in  her  vision  of  an 
Eastern  city. 

Asking  her  to  sit  down,  he  began  to  talk  as  if 
they  were  old  acquaintance  between  whom  nothing 
of  moment  had  occurred.  At  last  she  took  her 
courage  in  both  hands. 

"Why  did  you  make  me  come  here?"  she  asked 
suddenly. 

"You  give  me  criedit  now  for  very  marvellous 
powers,"  he  smiled. 

"You  knew  I  should  come." 

"I  knew." 

"What  have  I  done  to  you  that  you  should 
make  me  so  unhappy?  I  want  you  to  leave  me 
alone." 

"I  shall  not  prevent  you  from  going  out  if  you 
choose  to  go.  No  harm  has  come  to  you.  The 
door  is  open." 

Her  heart  beat  quickly,  painfully  almost,  and  she 
remained"' silent.  She  knew  that  she  did  not  want 
to  go.  There  was  something  that  drew  her  strangely 
to  him,  and  she  was  ceasing  to  resist.  A  strange 
feeling  began  to  take  hold  of  her,  creeping  stealthily 
through  her  limbs;  and  she  was  terrified,  but 
unaccountably  elated. 

He  began  to  talk  with  that  low  voice  of  his  that 
thrilled  her  with  a  curious  magic.  He  spoke  not  of 
pictures  now,  nor  of  books,  but  of  life.  He  told  her 
of  strange  Eastern  places  where  no  infidel  had  been, 
and  her  sensitive  fancy  was  aflame  with  the  honeyed 


THE  MAGICIAN 

fervour  of  his  phrase.  He  spoke  of  the  dawn  upon 
sleeping  desolate  cities,  and  the  moonlit  nights  of 
the  desert,  of  the  sunsets  with  their  splendour,  and 
of  the  crowded  streets  at  noon.  The  beauty  of  the 
East  rose  up  before  her.  He  told  her  of  many- 
coloured  webs  and  of  silken  carpets,  the  glittering 
steel  of  armour  damascened,  and  of  barbaric  price- 
less gems.  The  splendour  of  the  East  blinded  her 
eyes.  He  spoke  of  frankincense  and  myrrh  and 
aloes,  of  heavy  perfumes  of  the  scent-merchants, 
and  drowsy  odours  of  the  Syrian  gardens.  The 
fragrance  of  the  East  filled  her  nostrils.  And  all 
these  things  were  transformed  by  the  power  of  his 
words  till  life  itself  seemed  offered  to  her,  a  life 
of  infinite  vivacity,  a  life  of  freedom,  a  life  of  su- 
pernatural knowledge.  It  seemed  to  her  that  a 
comparison  was  drawn  for  her  attention  between 
the  narrow  round  which  awaited  her  as  Arthur's 
wife  and  this  fair  full  existence.  She  shuddered 
to  think  of  the  dull  house  in  Harley  Street  and  the 
insignificance  of  its  humdrum  duties.  But  it  was 
possible  for  her  also  to  enjoy  the  wonder  of  the 
world.  Her  soul  yearned  for  a  beauty  that  the 
commonalty  of  men  did  not  know.  And  what  devil 
suggested,  a  warp  as  it  were  in  the  woof  of  Oliver's 
speech,  that  her  exquisite  loveliness  gave  her  the 
right  to  devote  herself  to  the  great  art  of  living? 
She  felt  a  sudden  desire  for  perilous  adventures. 
As  though  fire  passed  through  her,  she  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  stood  with  panting  bosojn,  her  flash- 
ing eyes  bright  with  the  multi-coloured  pictures  that 
his  magic  presented. 


146  THE  MAGICIAN 

Oliver  Haddo  stood  too,  and  they  faced  one 
another.  Then,  on  a  sudden,  she  knew  what  the 
passion  was  that  consumed  her.  With  a  quick 
movement,  his  eyes  more  than  ever  strangely  star- 
ing, he  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  he  kissed  her 
lips.  She  surrendered  herself  to  him  voluptuously. 
Her  whole  body  burned  with  the  ecstasy  of  his 
embrace. 

"I  think\I  love  you,"  she  said,  hoarsely. 

She  looked  at  him.     She  did  not  feel  ashamed. 

"Now  you  must  go,'*  he  said. 

He  opened  the  door,  and,  without  another  word, 
she  went.  She  walked  through  the  streets  as  if 
nothing  at  all  had*  happened.  She  felt  neither  re- 
morse nor  revulsion. 

Then  Margaret  felt  every  day  that  uncontrollable 
desire  to  go  to  him;  and,  though  she  tried  to  per- 
suade herself  not  to  yield,  she  knew  that  her  effort 
was  only  a  pretence;  she  did  not  want  anything  to 
prevent  her.  When  it  seemed  that  some  accident 
would  do  so,  she  could  scarcely  control  her  irrita- 
tion. There  was  always  that  violent  hunger  of  the 
soul  which  called  her  to  him,  and  the  only  happy 
hours  she  had  were  those  spent  in  his  company. 
Day  after  day  she  felt  that  complete  ecstasy  when 
he  took  her  in  his  huge  arms,  and  kissed  her  with 
his  heavy,  sensual  lips.  But  the  ecstasy  was  ex- 
traordinarily mingled  with  loathing,  and  her  physi- 
cal attraction  was  joined  with  physical  abhorrence. 

Yet  when  he  looked  at  her  with  those  pale  blue 
eyes,  and  threw  into  his  voice  those  troubling  ac- 
cents, she  forgot  everything.  He  spoke  of  unhal- 


THE  MAGICIAN  147 

lowed  things.  Sometimes,  as  it  were,  he  lifted  a 
corner  of  the  veil  and  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  terrible 
secrets.  She  understood  how  men  had  bartered  their 
souls  for  infinite  knowledge.  She  seemed  to  stand 
upon  a  pinnacle  of  the  temple,  and  spiritual  king- 
doms of  darkness,  principalities  of  the  unknown,  were 
spread  before  her  eyes  to  lure  her  to  destruction. 
But  of  Haddo  himself  she  learned  nothing.  She  did 
not  know  if  he  loved  her.  She  did  not  know  if  he  had 
ever  loved.  He  appeared  to  stand  apart  from  human 
kind.  Margaret  discovered  by  chance  that  his 
mother  lived,  but  he  would  not  speak  of  her. 

"Some  day  you  shall  see  her,"  he  said. 

"When?" 

"Very  soon." 

Meanwhile  her  life  proceeded  with  all  outward 
regularity.  She  found  it  easy  to  deceive  her  friends 
because  it  occurred  to  neither  that  her  frequent  ab- 
sence was  not  due  to  the  plausible  reasons  she  gave. 
The  lies  which  at  first  seemed  intolerable  now 
tripped  glibly  off  her  tongue.  But  though  they 
were  so  natural,  she  was  seized  often  with  a  panic 
of  fear  lest  they  should  be  discovered;  and  some- 
times, suffering  agonies  of  remorse,  she  would  lie 
in  bed  at  night  and  think  with  utter  shame  of  the 
way  she  was  using  Arthur.  But  things  had  gone 
too  far  now,  and  she  must  let  them  take  their 
course.  She  scarcely  knew  why  her  feelings  towards 
him  had  so  completely  changed.  Oliver  Haddo  had 
scarcely  mentioned  his  name  and  yet  had  poisoned 
her  mind.  The  comparison  between  the  two  was  to 
Arthur's  disadvantage.  She  thought  him  a  little 


148  THE  MAGICIAN 

dull  now,  and  his  commonplace  way  of  looking  at 
life  contrasted  with  Haddo's  fascinating  boldness. 
She  reproached  Arthur  in  her  heart  because  he  had 
never  understood  what  was  in  her.  He  narrowed 
her  mind.  And  gradually  she  began  to  hate  him 
because  her  debt  of  gratitude  was  so  great.  It 
seemed  unfair  that  he  should  have  done  so  much  for 
her.  He  forced  her  to  marry  him  by  his  beneficence. 
Yet  Margaret  continued  to  discuss  with  him  the 
arrangement  of  their  house  in  Harley  Street.  It  had 
been  her  wish  to  furnish  the  drawing-room  in  the 
style  of  Louis  XV.;  and  together  they  made  long 
excursions  to  buy  chairs  or  old  pieces  of  silk  where- 
with to  cover  them.  Everything  should  be  perfect 
in  its  kind.  The  date  of  their  marriage  was  fixed, 
and  all  the  details  were  settled.  Arthur  was  ridicu- 
lously happy.  Margaret  made  no  sign.  She  did  not 
think  of  the  future,  and  she  spoke  of  it  only  to  ward 
off  suspicion.  She  was  inwardly  convinced  now 
that  the  marriage  would  never  take  place,  but  what 
was  to  prevent  it  she  did  not  know.  She  watched 
Susie  and  Arthur  cunningly.  But  though  she 
watched  in  order  to  conceal  her  own  secret,  it  was 
another's  that  she  discovered.  Suddenly  Margaret 
became  aware  that  Susie  was  deeply  in  love  with 
Arthur  Burdon.  The  discovery  was  so  astounding 
that  at  first  it  seemed  absurd. 

"  You've  never  done  that  caricature  of  Arthur  for 
me  that  you  promised,"  she  said,  suddenly. 

"I've  tried,  but  he  doesn't  lend  himself  to  it," 
laughed  Susie. 

"With  that  long  nose  and  the  gaunt  figure  I 


THE  MAGICIAN  149 

should  have  thought  you  could  make  something 
screamingly  funny." 

"How  oddly  you  talk  of  him!  Somehow  I  can 
only  see  his  beautiful,  kind  eyes  and  his  tender 
mouth.  I  would  as  soon  do  a  caricature  of  him  as 
a  parody  on  a  poem  I  loved." 

Margaret  took  the  portfolio  in  which  Susie  kept 
her  sketches.  She  caught  the  look  of  alarm  that 
crossed  her  friend's  face,  but  Susie  had  not  the 
courage  to  prevent  her  from  looking.  She  turned 
the  drawings  carelessly  and  presently  came  to  a 
sheet  upon  which,  in  a  more  or  less  finished  state, 
were  half  a  dozen  heads  of  Arthur.  Pretending 
not  to  see  it,  she  went  on  to  the  end.  When  she 
closed  the  portfolio  Susie  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"I  wish  you  worked  harder,"  said  Margaret,  as 
she  put  the  sketches  down.  "I  wonder  you  don't 
do  a  head  of  Arthur  as  you  can't  do  a  caricature." 

"My  dear,  you  mustn't  expect  everyone  to  take 
such  an  overpowering  interest  in  that  young  man 
as  you  do." 

The  answer  added  a  last  certainty  to  Margaret's 
suspicion.  She  told  herself  bitterly  that  Susie  was 
no  less  a  liar  than  she.  Next  day,  when  the  other 
was  out,  Margaret  looked  through  the  portfolio 
once  more,  but  the  sketches  of  Arthur  had  disap- 
peared. She  was  seized  on  a  sudden  with  furious 
anger  because  Susie  dared  to  love  the  man  who 
loved  her. 

The  web  in  which  Oliver  Haddo  enmeshed  her 
was  woven  with  skilful  intricacy.  He  took  each 
part  of  her  character  separately  and  fortified  with 


150  THE  MAGICIAN 

consummate  art  his  influence  over  her.  There  was 
something  satanic  in  his  deliberation,  yet  in  actual 
time  it  was  almost  incredible  that  he  could  have 
changed  the  old  abhorrence  with  which  she  re- 
garded him  into  that  hungry  passion.  Margaret 
could  not  now  realise  her  life  apart  from  his.  At 
length  he  thought  the  time  was  ripe  for  the  final  step. 

"It  may  interest  you  to  know  that  I'm  leaving 
Paris  on  Thursday,"  he  said  casually,  one  afternoon. 

She  started  to  her  feet  and  stared  at  him  with 
bewildered  eyes. 

"But  what  is  to  become  of  me?" 

"You  will  marry  the  excellent  Mr.  Burdon." 

"You  know  I  cannot  live  without  you.  How  can 
you  be  so  cruel?" 

"Then  the  only  alternative  is  that  you  should 
accompany  me." 

Her  blood  ran  cold,  and  her  heart  seemed  pressed 
in  an  iron  vice. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"There  is  no  need  to  be  agitated.  I  am  making 
you  an  eminently  desirable  offer  of  marriage." 

She  sank  helplessly  into  her  chair.  Because  she 
had  refused  to  think  of  the  future  it  had  never 
struck  her  that  the  time  must  come  when  it  would 
be  necessary  to  leave  Haddo  or  to  throw  in  her  lot 
with  his  definitely.  She  was  seized  with  a  com- 
plete revulsion.  Margaret  realised  that,  though  an 
odious  attraction  bound  her  to  the  man,  she  loathed 
and  feared  him.  The  scales  fell  from  her  eyes. 
She  remembered  on  a  sudden  Arthur's  great  love 
and  all  that  he  had  done  for  her  sake.  She  utterly 


THE  MAGICIAN  151 

§B 
hated  herself.     Like  a  bird  at  its  last  gasp,  beating 

frantically  against  the  bars  of  a  cage,  Margaret  made  a 
desperate  effort  to  regain  her  freedom.  She  sprang  up. 

"Let  me  go  from  here.  I  wish  I'd  never  seen  you. 
I  don't  know  what  you've  done  with  me/' 

"Go  by  all  means  if  you  choose,"  he  answered. 

He  opened  the  door,  so  that  she  might  see  he 
used  no  compulsion,  and  stood  lazily  at  the  threshold 
with  a  hateful  smile.  There  was  something  terrible 
in  his  excessive  bulk.  Rolls  of  fat  descended  from 
his  chin  and  concealed  his  neck  entirely.  His  cheeks 
were  huge,  and  the  lack  of  beard  added  to  the 
hideous  nakedness  of  his  face.  Margaret  stopped 
as  she  passed  him,  horribly  repelled  yet  horribly 
fascinated.  She  had  an  immense  desire  that  he 
should  take  her  again  in  his  arms  and  press  her 
lips  with  that  red  voluptuous  mouth.  It  was  as 
though  fiends  of  hell  were  taking  revenge  upon  her 
loveliness  by  inspiring  in  her  a  passion  for  this  mon- 
strous creature.  She  trembled  with  the  intensity 
of  her  desire.  His  eyes  were  hard  and  cruel. 

"Go,"  he  said. 

She  bent  her  head  and  fled  from  before  him.  To 
get  home  she  passed  through  the  gardens  of  the 
Luxembourg,  but  her  legs  failed  her,  and  in  ex- 
haustion she  sank  upon  a  bench.  The  day  was  sul- 
try. She  tried  to  collect  herself.  Margaret  knew 
well  the  part  in  which  she  sat,  for  in  the  enthusiastic 
days  that  seemed  so  long  gone  by  she  was  accus- 
tomed to  come  there  for  the  sake  of  an  exquisite 
tree  upon  which  her  eyes  now  rested.  It  had  all 
the  slim  delicacy  of  a  Japanese  print.  The  leaves 


152  THE  MAGICIAN 

were  slender  and  fragile,  half  gold  with  autumn, 
half  green,  but  so  tenuous  that  the  dark  branches 
made  a  pattern  of  subtle  beauty  against  the  sky. 
The  hand  of  a  draughtsman  could  not  have  fashioned 
it  with  a  more  excellent  skill.  But  now  Margaret 
could  take  no  pleasure  in  its  grace.  She  felt  a 
heartrending  pang  to  think  that  henceforward  the 
consummate  things  of  art  would  have  no  meaning 
for  her.  She  had  seen  Arthur  the  evening  before, 
and  remembered  with  an  agony  of  shame  the 
lies  to  which  she  had  been  forced  in  order  to  ex- 
plain why  she  could  not  see  him  till  late  that  day. 
He  had  proposed  that  they  should  go  to  Versailles, 
and  was  bitterly  disappointed  when  she  told  him 
they  could  not,  as  usual  on  Sundays,  spend  the 
whole  day  together.  He  accepted  her  excuse  that 
she  had  to  visit  a  sick  friend.  It  would  not  have 
been  so  intolerable  if  he  had  suspected  her  of  de- 
ceit, and  his  reproaches  would  have  hardened  her 
heart.  It  was  his  entire  confidence  which  was  so 
difficult  to  bear. 

"Oh,  if  I  could  only  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  all," 
she  cried. 

The  bell  of  Saint  Sulpice  was  ringing  for  vespers. 
Margaret  walked  slowly  to  the  church  and  sat  down 
in  the  seats  reserved  in  the  transept  for  the  needy. 
She  hoped  that  the  good  music  she  must  hear  there 
would  rest  her  soul,  and  perhaps  she  might  be  able 
to  pray.  Of  late  she  had  not  dared.  There  was  a 
pleasant  darkness  in  the  place,  and  its  large  sim- 
plicity was  very  soothing.  In  her  exhaustion  she 
watched  listlessly  the  people  go  to  and  fro.  Behind 


THE  MAGICIAN  153 

her  was  a  priest  in  the  confessional.  A  little  peasant 
girl,  in  a  Breton  coiffe,  perhaps  a  maid-servant  lately 
come  from  her  native  village  to  the  great  capital, 
passed  in  and  knelt  down.  Margaret  could  hear  her 
muttered  words  and  at  intervals  the  deep  voice  of 
the  priest.  In  three  minutes  she  tripped  neatly 
away.  She  looked  so  fresh  in  her  plain  black  dress, 
so  healthy  and  innocent,  that  Margaret  could  not 
restrain  a  sob  of  envy.  The  child  had  so  little  to 
confess,  a  few  puny  errors  which  must  excite  a  smile 
on  the  lips  of  the  gentle  priest,  and  her  candid  spirit 
was  like  snow.  Margaret  would  have  given  any- 
thing to  kneel  down  and  whisper  in  those  passionless 
ears  all  that  she  suffered,  but  the  priest's  faith  and 
hers  were  not  the  same.  They  spoke  a  different 
tongue,  not  of  the  lips  only,  but  of  the  soul,  and  he 
would  not  listen  to  the  words  of  a  heretic. 

A  long  procession  of  seminarists  came  in  from  the 
college,  which  is  under  the  shadow  of  that  great 
church,  two  by  two,  in  black  cassocks  and  short 
white  surplices.  Many  were  tonsured  already.  Some 
were  quite  young.  Margaret  watched  their  faces, 
wondering  if  they  were  tormented  by  such  agony  as 
she.  But  they  had  a  living  faith  to  sustain  them, 
and  if  some  plainly  were  narrow  and  obtuse,  they 
had  at  least  a  fixed  rule  which  prevented  them  from 
swerving  into  treacherous  byways.  One  or  two  had 
a  wan  ascetic  look,  such  as  the  saints  may  have  had 
when  the  terror  of  life  was  known  to  them  only  in 
the  imaginings  of  the  cloister.  The  canons  of  the 
church  followed  in  their  more  gorgeous  vestments 
and  finally  the  officiating  clergy. 


154  THE  MAGICIAN 

The  music  was  beautiful.  There  was  about  it  a 
staid  sad  dignity;  and  it  seemed  to  Margaret  fit 
thus  to  adore  the  God  of  the  Church.  But  it  did 
not  move  her.  She  could  not  understand  the  words 
that  these  priests  chanted;  their  gestures,  their  move- 
ments to  and  fro,  were  strange  to  her.  For  her  that 
stately  service  had  no  meaning.  And  with  a  great 
cry  in  her  heart  she  said  that  God  had  forsaken  her. 
She  was  alone  in  a  strange  land.  Evil  was  all  about 
her,  and  in  those  ceremonies  she  could  find  no  com- 
fort. What  could  she  expect  when  the  God  of  her 
fathers  left  her  to  her  fate?  So  that  she  might  not 
weep  in  front  of  all  those  people,  Margaret  with 
down-turned  face,  walked  to  the  door.  She  felt  now 
utterly  lost.  As  she  walked  along  the  interminable 
street  that  led  to  her  own  house  she  was  shaken  with 
sobs. 

"God  has  forsaken  me,"  she  repeated.  "God  has 
forsaken  me." 

Next  day,  her  eyes  red  with  weeping,  she  dragged 
herself  to  Haddo's  door.  When  he  opened  it  she 
went  in  without  a  word.  She  sat  down,  and  he 
watched  her  in  silence. 

"I  am  willing  to  marry  you  whenever  you 
choose,"  she  said,  at  last. 

"I  have  made  all  the  necessary  arrangements." 

"You  have  spoken  to  me  of  your  mother.  Will 
you  take  me  to  her  at  once." 

The  shadow  of  a  smile  crossed  his  lips. 

"If  you  wish  it." 

Haddo  told  her  that  they  could  be  married  before 
the  Consul  early  enough  on  the  Thursday  morning 


THE  MAGICIAN  155 

to  catch  a  train  for  England.  She  left  everything  in 
his  hands. 

"I'm  desperately  unhappy,"  she  said,  dully. 

Oliver  laid  his  hands  upon  her  shoulders  and  looked 
into  her  eyes. 

"Go  home,  and  you  will  forget  your  tears.  I  com- 
mand you  to  be  happy." 

Then  it  seemed  that  the  bitter  struggle  between 
the  good  and  the  evil  in  her  was  done,  and  the  evil 
had  conquered.  She  felt  on  a  sudden  curiously 
elated.  It  seemed  no  longer  to  matter  that  she  de- 
ceived her  faithful  friends.  She  gave  a  bitter  laugh, 
as  she  thought  how  easy  it  was  to  hoodwink  them. 

Wednesday  happened  to  be  Arthur's  birthday, 
and  he  asked  her  to  dine  with  him  alone. 

"We'll  do  ourselves  proud,  and  hang  the  expense," 
he  said. 

They  had  arranged  to  eat  at  a  fashionable  res- 
taurant on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  soon 
after  seven  he  fetched  her.  Margaret  was  dressed 
with  exceeding  care.  She  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  waiting  for  Arthur's  arrival,  and  surveyed 
herself  in  the  glass.  Susie  thought  she  had  never 
been  more  beautiful. 

"I  think  you've  grown  more  pleasing  to  look 
upon  than  you  ever  were,"  she  said.  "I  don't 
know  what  it  is  that  has  come  over  you  of  late, 
but  there's  a  depth  in  your  eyes  that  is  quite  new. 
It  gives  you  an  odd  mysteriousness  which  is  very 
attractive." 

Knowing  Susie's  love  for  Arthur,  she  wondered 


156  THE  MAGICIAN 

whether  her  friend  was  not  heartbroken  as  she 
compared  her  own  plainness  with  the  radiant  beauty 
that  was  before  her.  Arthur  came  in,  and  Mar- 
garet did  not  move.  He  stopped  at  the  door  to 
look  at  her.  Their  eyes  met.  His  heart  beat  quickly, 
and  yet  he  was  seized  with  awe.  His  good  fortune 
was  too  great  to  bear,  when  he  thought  that  this 
priceless  treasure  was  his.  He  could  have  knelt 
down  and  worshipped,  as  though  a  goddess  of  old 
Greece  stood  before  him.  And  to  him  also  her  eyes 
had  changed.  They  had  acquired  a  burning  passion 
which  disturbed  and  yet  enchanted  him.  It  seemed 
that  the  lovely  girl  was  changed  already  into  a  lovely 
woman.  An  enigmatic  smile  came  to  her  lips. 

"Are  you  pleased?"  she  asked. 

Arthur  came  forward,  and  Margaret  put  her 
hands  on  his  shoulders. 

"You  have  scent  on,"  he  said. 

He  was  surprised,  for  she  had  never  used  it  be- 
fore. It  was  a  faint,  almost  acrid  perfume  that  he 
did  not  know.  It  reminded  him  vaguely  of  those 
odours  which  he  remembered  in  his  childhood  in 
the  East.  It  was  remote  and  strange.  It  gave 
Margaret  a  new.  and  troubling  charm.  There  had 
ever  been  something  cold  in  her  statuesque  beauty, 
but  this  touch  somehow  curiously  emphasised  her 
sex.  Arthur's  lips  twitched,  and  his  gaunt  face 
grew  pale  with  passion.  His  emotion  was  so  great 
that  it  was  nearly  pain.  He  was  puzzled,  for  her 
eyes  expressed  things  that  he  had  never  seen  in 
them  before. 

"Why  don't  you  kiss  me?"  she  said. 


THE  MAGICIAN  157 

She  did  not  see  Susie,  but  knew  that  a  quick 
look  of  anguish  crossed  her  face.  Margaret  drew 
Arthur  towards  her.  His  hands  began  to  tremble. 
He  had  never  ventured  to  express  the  passion  that 
consumed  him,  and  when  he  kissed  her  it  was  with 
a  restraint  that  was  almost  brotherly.  Now  their 
lips  met.  Forgetting  that  anyone  else  was  in  the 
room,  he  flung  his  arms  around  Margaret.  She 
had  never  kissed  him  in  that  way  before,  and  the 
rapture  was  intolerable.  Her  lips  were  like  living 
fire.  He  could  not  take  his  own  away.  He  forgot 
everything.  All  his  strength,  all  his  self-control, 
deserted  him.  It  crossed  his  mind  that  at  this  mo- 
ment he  would  willingly  die.  But  the  delight  of  it 
was  so  great  that  he  could  scarcely  withhold  a  cry  of 
utter  agony.  At  length  Susie's  voice  reminded  him 
of  the  world. 

"You'd  far  better  go  out  to  dinner  instead  of 
behaving  like  a  pair  of  complete  idiots." 

She  tried  to  make  her  tone  as  flippant  as  the 
words,  but  her  voice  was  cut  by  a  pang  of  agony. 
With  a  little  laugh  Margaret  withdrew  from  Arthur's 
embrace  and  lightly  looked  at  her  friend.  Susie's 
brave  smile  died  away  as  she  caught  this  glance, 
for  there  was  in  it  a  malicious  hatred  that  startled 
her.  The  pain  she  suffered  made  all  her  senses  very 
alert,  and  she  could  not  mistake  the  meaning  of 
those  scornful  eyes.  But  it  was  so  unexpected  that 
she  was  terrified.  What  had  she  done?  She  was 
afraid,  dreadfully  afraid,  that  Margaret  had  divined 
her  secret.  Arthur  stood  as  if  his  senses  had  left  him, 
quivering  still  with  the  extremity  of  passion. 


158  THE  MAGICIAN 

"Susie  says  we  must  go,"  smiled  Margaret. 

He  could  not  speak.  He  could  not  regain  the 
conventional  manner  of  polite  society.  Very  pale, 
like  a  man  suddenly  awaked  from  deep  sleep,  he 
wTent  out  at  Margaret's  side.  They  walked  along 
the  passage.  Though  the  door  was  closed  behind 
them  and  they  were  out  of  earshot,  Margaret 
seemed  notwithstanding  to  hear  Susie's  passionate 
sobbing.  It  gave  her  a  horrible  delight. 

The  tavern  to  which  they  went  was  on  the  Boule- 
vard des  Italiens,  and  at  this  date  the  most  fre- 
quented in  Paris.  It  was  crowded,  but  Arthur 
had  reserved  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 
Her  radiant  loveliness  made  people  stare  at  Mar- 
garet as  she  passed  through,  and  her  consciousness 
of  the  admiration  she  excited  increased  her  beauty. 
She  was  satisfied  that  amid  this  throng  of  the  best- 
dressed  women  in  the  world  she  had  cause  to  envy 
no  one.  The  gaiety  was  charming.  Shaded  lights 
gave  an  opulent  cosiness  to  the  scene,  and  there 
were  flowers  everywhere.  Innumerable  mirrors 
reflected  women  of  the  world,  admirably  gowned, 
actresses  of  renown,  and  fashionable  courtesans. 
The  noise  was  very  great.  A  Hungarian  band 
played  in  a  distant  corner,  but  the  music  was 
drowned  by  the  loud  talking  of  excited  men  and 
the  boisterous  laughter  of  women.  It  was  plain  that 
people  had  come  to  spend  their  money  with  a  lavish 
hand.  The  vivacious  crowd  was  given  over  with  all 
its  heart  to  the  pleasure  of  the  fleeting  moment. 
Everyone  had  put  aside  grave  thoughts  and  sorrow. 


THE  MAGICIAN  159 

Margaret  had  never  been  in  better  spirits.  The 
champagne  went  quickly  to  her  head,  and  she  talked 
all  manner  of  charming  nonsense.  Arthur  was  en- 
chanted. He  was  very  proud,  very  pleased,  and 
very  happy.  They  talked  of  all  the  things  they 
would  do  when  they  were  married.  They  talked 
of  the  places  they  must  go  to,  of  their  home  and 
of  the  beautiful  things  with  which  they  would  fill 
it.  Margaret's  animation  was  extraordinary.  Ar- 
thur was  amused  at  her  delight  with  the  bright- 
ness of  the  place,  with  the  good  things  they  ate, 
and  with  the  wine.  Her  laughter  was  like  a  rip- 
pling brook.  Everything  tended  to  take  him  out  of 
his  usual  reserve.  Life  was  very  pleasing,  at  that 
moment,  and  he  felt  singularly  joyful. 

"Let  us  drink  to  the  happiness  of  our  life,"  he  said. 

They  touched  glasses.  He  could  not  take  his 
eyes  away  from  her. 

"You're  simply  wonderful  to-night,"  he  said. 
"I'm  almost  afraid  of  my  good  fortune/5 

"What  is  there  to  be  afraid  of?"  she  cried. 

"I  should  like  to  lose  something  I  valued  in 
order  to  propitiate  the  fates.  I  am  too  happy  now. 
Everything  goes  too  well  with  me/v 

She  gave  a  soft  low  laugh  and  stretched  out  her 
hand  on  the  table.  No  sculptor  could  have  mod- 
elled its  exquisite  delicacy.  She  wore  only  one  ring, 
a  large  emerald  of  beautiful  colour,  which  Arthur 
had  given  her  on  their  engagement.  He  could  not 
resist  taking  her  hand. 

"Would  you  like  to  go  on  anywhere  ? "  he  said,  when 
they  had  finished  dinner  and  were  drinking  their  coffee. 


160  THE  MAGICIAN 

"No,  let  us  stay  here.  I  must  go  to  bed  early,  as 
I  have  a  tiring  day  before  me  to-morrow." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  he  asked. 

"Nothing  of  any  importance,"  she  laughed. 

Presently  the  diners  began  to  go  in  little  groups, 
and  Margaret  suggested  that  they  should  saunter 
towards  the  Madeleine.  The  night  was  fine,  but 
rather  cold,  and  the  broad  avenue  was  crowded. 
Margaret  watched  the  people.  It  was  no  less 
amusing  than  a  play.  In  a  little  while  they  took  a 
cab  and  drove  through  the  streets,  silent  already, 
that  led  to  the  quarter  of  the  Montparnasse.  They 
sat  in  silence,  and  Margaret  nestled  close  to  Arthur. 
He  put  his  arm  around  her  waist.  In  the  shut  cab 
that  faint,  Oriental  odour  rose  again  to  his  nostrils, 
and  his  head  reeled  as  it  had  before  dinner. 

"You've  made  me  very  happy,  Margaret,"  he 
whispered.  "I  feel  that  however  long  I  live  I  shall 
never  have  a  happier  day  than  this." 

"Do  you  love  me  very  much?"  she  asked  lightly. 

He  did  not  answer,  but  took  her  head  in  his 
hands  and  kissed  her  passionately.  They  arrived 
at  Margaret's  house,  and  she  tripped  up  to  the  door. 
She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  smiling. 

"Good-night." 

"It's  dreadful  to  think  that  I  must  spend  a  dozen 
hours  without  seeing  you.  When  may  I  come  ? " 

"Not  in  the  morning,  because  I  shall  be  too  busy. 
Come  at  twelve." 

She  remembered  that  her  train  started  exactly  at 
that  hour.  The  door  was  opened,  and  with  a  little 
wave  of  the  hand  she  disappeared. 


Chapter  X 

SUSIE  stared  without  comprehension  at  the  note 
that  announced  Margaret's  marriage.     It  was  a 
petit  bleu  sent  off  from  the  Gare  du  Nord,  and  ran 
as  follows: 

"When  you  receive  this  I  shall  be  on  my  way  to 
London.  I  was  married  to  Oliver  Haddo  this 
morning.  I  love  him  as  I  never  loved  Arthur.  I 
have  acted  in  this  manner  because  I  thought  I  had 
gone  too  far  with  Arthur  to  make  an  explanation 
possible.  Please  tell  him. 

"MARGARET." 

Susie  was  filled  with  dismay.  She  did  not*  know 
what  to  do  nor  what  to  think.  There  was  a  knock 
at  the  door,  and  she  knew  that  it  must  be  Arthur, 
for  he  was  expected  at  midday.  She  decided  quickly 
that  it  was  impossible  to  break  the  news  to  him 
then  and  there.  It  was  needful  first  to  find  out  all 
manner  of  things,  and  besides  it  was  incredible. 
Making  up  her  mind,  she  opened  the  door. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry  Margaret  isn't  here,"  she  said. 
"  A  friend  of  hers  is  ill  and  sent  for  her  suddenly." 

"What  a  bore!"  answered  Arthur.  "Mrs.  Bloom- 
field  as  usual,  I  suppose?" 

"Oh,  you  know  she's  been  ill?" 

161 


162  THE  MAGICIAN 

"Margaret  has  spent  nearly  every  afternoon  with 
her  for  some  days." 

Susie  did  not  answer.  This  was  the  first  she  had 
heard  of  Mrs.  Bloomfield's  illness,  and  it  was  news 
that  Margaret  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  her.  But 
her  chief  object  at  this  moment  was  to  get  rid  of 
Arthur. 

"Won't  you  come  back  at  five  o'clock?"  she 
said. 

"  But,  look  here,  why  shouldn't  we  lunch  together, 
you  and  I?" 

"I'm  very  sorry,  but  I'm  expecting  somebody  in." 

"Oh,  all  right.    Then  I'll  come  back  at  five." 

He  nodded  and  went  out.  Susie  read  the  brief 
note  once  more,  and  asked  herself  if  it  could  pos- 
sibly be  true.  The  callousness  of  it  was  appalling. 
She  went  to  Margaret's  room  and  saw  that  every- 
thing was  in  its  place.  It  did  not  look  as  if  the 
owner  had  gone  on  a  journey.  But  then  she  noticed 
that  a  number  of  letters  had  been  destroyed.  She 
opened  a  drawer  and  found  that  Margaret's  trinkets 
were  gone.  Then  an  idea  struck  her.  Margaret  had 
bought  lately  a  number  of  clothes,  and  these  she 
had  insisted  should  be  sent  to  her  dressmaker,  say- 
ing that  it  was  needless  to  cumber  their  little  apart- 
ment with  them.  They  could  stay  there  till  she 
returned  to  England  a  few  weeks  later  for  her  mar- 
riage, and  it  would  be  simpler  to  despatch  them  all 
from  one  place.  Susie  went  out.  At  the  door  it 
occurred  to  her  to  ask  the  concierge  if  she  knew  where 
Margaret  had  gone  that  morning. 

" Parfaitement,  Mademoiselle"  answered  the  old 


THE  MAGICIAN  163 

woman.  "I  heard  her  tell  the  coachman  to  go  to 
the  British  Consulate/' 

The  last  doubt  was  leaving  Susie.  She  went  to 
the  dressmaker  and  there  discovered  that  by  Mar- 
garet's order  the  boxes  containing  her  things  had 
gone  on  the  previous  day  to  the  luggage  office  of 
the  Gare  du  Nord. 

"I  hope  you  didn't  let  them  go  till  your  bill  was 
paid,"  said  Susie  lightly,  as  though  in  jest. 

The  dressmaker  laughed. 

"Mademoiselle  paid  for  everything  two  or  three 
days  ago." 

With  indignation  Susie  realised  that  Margaret  had 
not  only  taken  away  the  trousseau  bought  for  her 
marriage  with  Arthur;  but,  since  she  was  herself 
penniless,  had  paid  for  it  with  the  money  which  he 
had  generously  given  her.  Susie  drove  then  to  Mrs. 
Bloomfield,  who  at  once  reproached  her  for  not  com- 
ing to  see  her. 

"I'm  sorry,  but  Pve  been  exceedingly  busy,  and 
I  knew  that  Margaret  was  looking  after  you." 

"I've  not  seen  Margaret  for  three  weeks/'  said  the 
invalid. 

"Haven't  you?  I  thought  she  dropped  in  quite 
often." 

Susie  spoke  as  though  the  matter  were  of  no  im- 
portance. She  asked  herself  now  where  Margaret 
could  have  spent  those  afternoons.  By  a  great  effort 
she  forced  herself  to  speak  of  casual  things  with  the 
garrulous  old  lady  long  enough  to  make  her  visit 
quite  natural.  At  last  it  seemed  reasonable  to  go. 
She  went  to  the  Consulate,  and  her  last  doubt  was 


164  THE  MAGICIAN 

dissipated.  Then  nothing  remained  but  to  go  home 
and  wait  for  Arthur.  Her  first  impulse  had  been  to 
see  Dr.  Porhoet  and  ask  for  his  advice;  but,  even  if 
he  offered  to  come  back  with  her  to  the  studio,  his 
presence  would  be  useless.  She  must  see  Arthur  by 
himself.  Her  heart  was  wrung  as  she  thought  of 
the  man's  agony  when  he  knew  the  truth.  She  had 
confessed  to  herself  long  before  that  she  loved  him 
passionately,  and  it  seemed  intolerable  that  she  of 
all  persons  must  bear  him  this  great  blow. 

She  sat  in  the  studio  counting  the  minutes,  and 
thought  with  a  bitter  smile  that  his  eagerness  to  see 
Margaret  would  make  him  punctual.  She  had  eaten 
nothing  since  the  petit  dejeuner  of  the  morning,  and 
she  was  faint  with  hunger.  But  she  had  not  the 
heart  to  make  herself  tea.  At  last  he  came.  He 
entered  joyfully  and  looked  around. 

"Is  Margaret  not  here  yet?"  he  asked,  with  sur- 
prise. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?" 

He  did  not  notice  that  her  voice  was  strange,  nor 
that  she  kept  her  eyes  averted. 

"How  lazy  you  are,"  he  cried.  "You  haven't  got 
the  tea." 

"Mr.  Burdon,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you. 
It  will  cause  you  very  great  pain." 

He  observed  now  the  hoarseness  of  her  tone.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  a  thousand  fancies  flashed 
across  his  brain.  Something  horrible  had  happened 
to  Margaret.  She  was  ill.  His  terror  was  so  great 
that  he  could  not  speak.  He  put  out  his  hands  as 
does  a  blind  man.  Susie  had  to  make  an  effort  to 


THE  MAGICIAN  16S 

go  on.  But  she  could  not.  Her  voice  was  choked, 
and  she  began  to  cry.  Arthur  trembled  as  though  he 
were  seized  with  ague.  She  gave  him  the  letter. 

"What  does  it  mean?" 

He  looked  at  her  vacantly.  Then  she  told  him 
all  that  she  had  done  that  day  and  the  places  to 
which  she  had  been. 

"When  you  thought  she  was  spending  every  after- 
noon with  Mrs.  Bloomfield  she  was  with  that  man. 
She  made  all  the  arrangements  with  the  utmost 
care.  It  was  quite  premeditated." 

Arthur  sat  down  and  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand. 
He  turned  his  back  to  her,  so  that  she  should  not 
see  him.  They  remained  in  perfect  silence.  And  it 
was  so  terrible  that  Susie  began  to  cry  quietly.  She 
knew  that  the  man  she  loved  was  suffering  an  agony 
greater  than  the  agony  of  death,  and  she  could  not 
help  him.  Rage  flared  up  in  her  heart  and  hatred 
for  Margaret. 

"Oh,  it's  infamous!"  she  cried  suddenly.  "She's 
lied  to  you,  she's  been  odiously  deceitful.  She  must 
be  vile  and  heartless.  She  must  be  rotten  to  the 
very  soul." 

He  turned  round  sharply,  and  his  voice  was  hard. 

"I  forbid  you  to  say  anything  against  her." 

Susie  gave  a  little  gasp.  He  had  never  spoken  to 
her  before  in  anger.  She  flashed  out  bitterly. 

"Can  you  love  her  still,  when  she's  shown  her- 
self capable  of  such  vile  treachery?  For  nearly  a 
month  this  man  must  have  been  making  love  to  her, 
and  she's  listened  to  all  we  said  of  him.  •  She's 
pretended  to  hate  the  sight  of  him,  I've  seen  her  cut 


166  THE  MAGICIAN 

him  in  the  street.  She's  gone  on  with  all  the  prep- 
arations for  your  marriage.  She  must  have  lived 
in  a  world  of  lies,  and  you  never  suspected  anything 
because  you  had  an  unalterable  belief  in  her  love 
and  truthfulness.  She  owes  everything  to  you.  For 
four  years  she's  lived  on  your  charity.  She  was  only 
able  to  be  here  because  you  gave  her  money  to  carry 
out  a  foolish  whim,  and  the  very  clothes  on  her  back 
were  paid  for  by  you." 

"I  can't  help  it  if  she  didn't  love  me,"  he  cried 
desperately. 

"You  know  just  as  well  as  I  do  that  she  pretended 
to  love  you.  Oh,  she's  behaved  shamefully.  There 
can  be  no  excuse  for  her." 

He  looked  at  Susie  with  haggard,  miserable  eyes. 

"How  can  you  be  so  cruel?  For  God's  sake  don't 
make  it  harder." 

There  was  an  indescribable  agony  in  his  voice. 
And  as  if  his  own  words  of  pain  overthrew  the  last 
barrier  of  his  self-control,  he  broke  down  utterly. 
He  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  and  sobbed.  Susie  was 
horribly  conscience-stricken. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  said.  "I  didn't  mean  to 
say  such  hateful  things.  I  didn't  mean  to  be  unkind. 
I  ought  to  have  remembered  how  passionately  you 
love  her." 

It  was  very  painful  to  see  the  effort  he  made  to 
regain  his  self-command.  Susie  suffered  as  much 
as  he  did.  Her  impulse  was  to  throw  herself  on 
her  knees,  and  kiss  his  hands,  arid  comfort  him;  but 
she  knew  that  he  was  interested  in  her  only  because 
she  was  Margaret's  friend.  At  last  he  got  up,  and 


THE  MAGICIAN  167 

taking  his  pipe  from  his  pocket,  filled  it  silently. 
She  was  terrified  at  the  look  on  his  face.  The  first 
time  she  had  ever  seen  him,  Susie  wondered  at  the 
possibility  of  self-torture  which  was  in  that  rough- 
hewn  countenance;  but  she  had  never  dreamed  that  it 
could  express  such  unutterable  agony.  Its  lines  were 
suddenly  changed,  and  it  was  terrible  to  look  upon. 

"I  can't  believe  it's  true,"  he  muttered.  "I  can't 
believe  it." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Artnur  gave 
a  startled  cry. 

"Perhaps  she's  come  back." 

He  opened  it  hurriedly,  his  face  suddenly  lit  up  by 
expectation;  but  it  was  Dr.  Porhoet. 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  the  Frenchman.  "What 
is  happening?" 

He  looked  round  and  caught  the  dismay  that  was 
on  the  faces  of  Arthur  and  Susie. 

"Where  is  Miss  Margaret?  I  thought  you  must 
be  giving  a  party." 

There  was  something  in  his  manner  that  made 
Susie  ask  why. 

"I  received  a  telegram  from  Mr.  Haddo  this 
morning." 

He  took  it  from  his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  Susie. 
She  read  it  and  passed  it  to  Arthur.  It  said: 

"Come  to  the  studio  at  five.     High  jinks. 

"OLIVER  HADDO." 

"Margaret  was  married  to  Mr.  Haddo  this  morn- 
ing," said  Arthur,  quietly.  "I  understand  they 
have  gone  to  England." 


168  THE  MAGICIAN 

Susie  quickly  told  the  doctor  the  few  facts  they 
knew.  He  was  as  surprised,  almost  as  distressed, 
as  they. 

"But  what  is  the  explanation  of  it  all?"  he  asked. 

Arthur  shrugged  his  shoulders  wearily. 

"She  cared  for  Haddo  more  than  she  cared  for 
me,  I  suppose.  It  is  natural  enough  that  she  should 
go  away  in  this  fashion  rather  than  offer  explana- 
tions. I  suppose  she  wanted  to  save  herself  a  scene 
which  she  thought  might  be  rather  painful." 

"When  did  you  see  her  last?" 

"We  spent  yesterday  evening  together." 

"And  did  she  not  show  in  any  way  that  she  con- 
templated such  a  step?" 

Arthur  shook  his  head. 

"You  had  no  quarrel?" 

"We've  never  quarrelled.  She  was  in  the  best 
of  spirits.  I've  never  seen  her  more  gay.  She 
talked  the  whole  time  of  our  house  in  London,  and 
of  the  places  we  must  visit  when  we  were  married." 

Another  contraction  of  pain  passed  over  his  face 
as  he  remembered  that  she  had  been  more  affection- 
ate than  she  had  ever  been  before.  The  fire  of  her 
kisses  still  burnt  upon  his  lips.  He  had  spent  a 
night  of  almost  sleepless  ecstasy  because  he  had 
been  certain  for  the  first  time  that  the  passion  which 
consumed  him  burnt  in  her  heart  too.  Words  were 
dragged  out  of  him  against  his  will. 

"Oh,  I'm  sure  she  loved  me." 

Meanwhile  Susie's  eyes  were  fixed  on  Haddo's  cruel 
telegram.  She  seemed  to  hear  his  mocking  laughter. 

"Margaret  loathed  Oliver  Haddo  with  a  hatred 


THE  MAGICIAN  169 

that  was  almost  unnatural.  It  was  a  physical  re- 
pulsion like  that  which  people  sometimes  have  for 
certain  animals.  What  can  have  happened  to  change 
it  into  so  great  a  love  that  it  has  made  her  capable 
of  such  villainous  acts?" 

"We  mustn't  be  unfair  to  him/5  said  Arthur. 
"He  put  our  backs  up,  and  we  were  probably  un- 
just. He  has  done  some  very  remarkable  things  in 
his  day,  and  he's  no  fool.  It's  possible  that  some 
people  wouldn't  mind  the  eccentricities  which  irri- 
tated us.  He's  certainly  of  very  good  family  and 
he's  rich.  In  many  ways  it's  an  excellent  match 
for  Margaret." 

He  was  trying  with  all  his  might  to  find  excuses 
for  her.  It  would  not  make  her  treachery  so  in- 
tolerable if  he  could  persuade  himself  that  Haddo 
had  qualities  which  might  explain  her  infatuation. 
But  as  his  enemy  stood  before  his  fancy,  mon- 
strously obese,  vulgar,  and  overbearing,  a  shudder 
passed  through  him.  The  thought  of  Margaret  in 
that  man's  arms  tortured  him  as  though  his  flesh 
were  torn  with  iron  hooks. 

"Perhaps  it's  not  true.  Perhaps  she'll  return," 
he  cried. 

"Would  you  take  her  back  if  she  came  to  you?" 
asked  Susie. 

"Do  you  think  anything  she  can  do  has  the 
power  to  make  me  love  her  less?  There  must  be 
reasons  of  which  we  know  nothing  that  caused  her 
to  do  all  she  has  done.  I  dare  say  it  was  inevitable 
from  the  beginning." 

Dr.  Porhoet  got  up  and  walked  across  the  room. 


170  THE  MAGICIAN 

"If  a  woman  had  done  me  such  an  injury  that  I 
wanted  to  take  some  horrible  vengeance,  I  think  I 
could  devise  nothing  more  subtly  cruel  than  to  let 
her  be  married  to  Oliver  Haddo." 

"Ah,  poor  thing,  poor  thing!"  said  Arthur.  "If 
I  could  only  suppose  she  would  be  happy!  The  fu- 
ture terrifies  me/* 

"I  wonder  if  she  knew  that  Haddo  had  sent  that 
telegram,"  said  Susie. 

"What  can  it  matter?" 

She  turned  to  Arthur  gravely. 

"Do  you  remember  that  day,  in  this  studio,  when 
he  kicked  Margaret's  dog,  and  you  thrashed  him? 
Well,  afterwards,  when  he  thought  no  one  saw 
him,  I  happened  to  catch  sight  of  his  face.  I  never 
saw  in  my  life  such  malignant  hatred.  It  was  the 
face  of  a  fiend  of  wickedness.  And  when  he  tried 
to  excuse  himself  there  was  a  cruel  gleam  in  his 
eyes  which  terrified  me.  I  warned  you;  I  told  you 
that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  revenge  himself, 
but  you  laughed  at  me.  And  then  he  seemed  to 
go  out  of  our  lives,  and  I  thought  no  more  about 
it.  I  wonder  why  he  sent  Dr.  Porhoet  here  to-day. 
He  must  have  known  that  the  doctor  would  hear  of 
his  humiliation,  and  he  may  have  wished  that  he 
should  be  present  at  his  triumph.  I  think  that  very 
moment  he  made  up  his  mind  to  be  even  with  you, 
and  he  devised  this  odious  scheme." 

"How  could  he  know  that  it  was  possible  to 
carry  out  such  a  horrible  thing?"  said  Arthur. 

"I  wonder  if  Miss  Boyd  is  right,"  murmured 
the  doctor.  "After  all,  if  you  come  to  think  of  it, 


THE  MAGICIAN  171 

he  must  have  thought  that  he  couldn't  hurt  you 
more.  The  whole  thing  is  fiendish.  He  took  away 
from  you  all  your  happiness.  He  must  have  known 
that  you  wanted  nothing  in  the  world  more  than  to 
make  Margaret  your  wife,  and  he  has  not  only  pre- 
vented that,  but  he  has  married  her  himself.  And 
he  can  only  have  done  it  by  poisoning  her  mind, 
by  warping  her  very  character.  Her  soul  must  be 
horribly  besmirched;  he  must  have  absolutely 
changed  her  personality." 

"Ah,  I  feel  that,"  cried  Arthur.  "If  Margaret 
has  broken  her  word  to  me,  if  she's  gone  to  him  so 
callously,  it's  because  it's  not  the  Margaret  I  know. 
Some  devil  must  have  taken  possession  of  her  body." 

"You  use  a  figure  of  speech.  I  wonder  if  it  can 
possibly  be  a  reality." 

Arthur  and  Dr.  Porhoet  looked  at  Susie  with 
astonishment. 

"I  can't  believe  that  Margaret  could  have  done 
such  a  thing,"  she  went  on.  "The  more  I  think 
of  it  the  more  incredible  it  seems.  I've  known 
Margaret  for  years,  and  she  was  incapable  of  de- 
ceit. She  was  very  kind-hearted.  She  was  honest 
and  truthful.  In  the  first  moment  of  horror  I  was 
only  indignant,  but  I  don't  want  to  think  too  badly 
of  her.  There  is  only  one  way  to  excuse  her  and 
that  is  by  supposing  she  acted  under  some  strange 
compulsion." 

Arthur  clenched  his  hands. 

"I'm  not  sure  if  that  doesn't  make  it  more  awful 
than  before.  If  he's  married  her,  not  because  he 
cares,  but  in  order  to  hurt  me,  what  life  will  she 


172  THE  MAGICIAN 

lead  with  him!  We  know  how  heartless  he  is, 
and  how  vindictive,  how  horribly  cruel." 

"Dr.  Porhoet  knows  more  about  these  things 
than  we  do/'  said  Susie.  "Is  it  possible  that  Haddo 
should  have  cast  some  spell  upon  her  that  would 
make  her  unable  to  resist  his  will?  Is  it  possible 
that  he  should  have  got  such  an  influence  over  her 
that  her  whole  character  was  changed?" 

"How  can  I  tell?"  cried  the  doctor  helplessly. 
"I  have  heard  that  such  things  may  happen.  I 
have  read  of  them,  but  I  have  no  proof.  In  these 
matters  all  is  obscurity.  The  adepts  in  magic  make 
strange  claims.  Arthur  is  a  man  of  science,  and 
he  knows  what  the  limits  of  hypnotism  are." 

"We  know  that  Haddo  had  powers  that  other 
men  have  not,"  answered  Susie.  "Perhaps  there 
was  enough  truth  in  his  extravagant  pretensions  to 
enable  him  to  do  something  that  we  can  hardly 
imagine." 

Arthur  passed  his  hands  wearily  over  his  face. 

"I'm  so  broken,  so  confused,  that  I  cannot  think 
sanely.  At  this  moment  everything  seems  possible. 
My  faith  in  all  the  truths  that  have  supported  me 
is  tottering." 

For  a  while  they  remained  silent.  Arthur's  eyes 
rested  on  the  chair  in  which  Margaret  had  so  often 
sat.  An  unfinished  canvas  still  stood  upon  the 
easel.  It  was  Dr.  Porhoet  who  spoke  at  last. 

"But  even  if  there  were  some  truth  in  Miss 
Boyd's  suppositions,  I  don't  see  how  it  can  help 
you.  You  cannot  do  anything.  You  have  no 
remedy,  legal  or  otherwise.  Margaret  is  appar- 


THE  MAGICIAN  173 

ently  a  free  agent,  and  she  has  married  this  man. 
It  is  plain  that  many  people  will  think  she  has 
done  much  better  in  marrying  a  country  gentleman 
than  in  marrying  a  young  surgeon.  Her  letter  is 
perfectly  lucid.  There  is  no  trace  of  compulsion. 
To  all  intents  and  purposes  she  has  married  him 
of  her  own  free-will,  and  there  is  nothing  to  show 
that  she  desires  to  be  released  from  him  or  from 
the  passion  which  we  suppose  enslaves  her." 

What  he  said  was  obviously  true,  and  no  reply 
was  possible. 

"The  only  thing  is  to  grin  and  bear  it,"  said 
Arthur,  rising. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  Susie. 

"I  think  I  want  to  get  away  from  Paris.  Here 
everything  will  remind  me  of  what  I  have  lost.  I 
must  get  back  to  my  work." 

He  had  regained  command  over  himself,  and  ex- 
cept for  the  hopeless  woe  of  his  face,  which  he  could 
not  prevent  from  being  visible,  he  was  as  calm  as 
ever.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  Susie. 

"I  can  only  hope  that  you'll  forget,"  she  said. 

"I  don't  wish  to  forget,"  he  answered,  shaking 
his  head.  "It's  possible  that  you  will  hear  from 
Margaret.  She'll  want  the  things  that  she  has  left 
here,  and  I  daresay  will  write  to  you.  I  should  like 
you  to  tell  her  that  I  bear  her  no  ill-will  for  any- 
thing she  has  done,  and  I  will  never  venture  to 
reproach  her.  I  don't  know  if  I  shall  be  able  to  do 
anything  for  her,  but  I  wish  her  to  know  that  in 
any  case  and  always  I  will  do  everything  that  she 


wants." 


174  THE  MAGICIAN 

"If  she  writes  to  me  I  will  see  that  she  is  told," 
answered  Susie  gravely. 

"And  now  good-bye." 

"You  can't  go  to  London  till  to-morrow.  Shan't 
I  see  you  in  the  morning?" 

"I  think,  if  you  don't  mind,  I  won't  come  here 
again.  The  sight  of  all  this  rather  disturbs  me." 

Again  a  contraction  of  pain  passed  across  his  eyes, 
and  Susie  saw  that  he  was  using  a  superhuman  effort 
to  preserve  the  appearance  of  composure.  She 
hesitated  a  moment. 

"Shall  I  never  see  you  again?"  she  said.  "I 
should  be  sorry  to  lose  sight  of  you  entirely." 

"I  should  be  sorry  too,"  he  answered.  "I  have 
learned  how  good  and  kind  you  are,  and  I  shall 
never  forget  that  you  are  Margaret's  friend.  When 
you  come  to  London  I  hope  that  you  will  let  me 
know." 

He  went  out.  Dr.  Porhoet,  his  hands  behind  his 
back,  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room.  At 
last  he  turned  to  Susie. 

"There  is  one  thing  that  puzzles  me,"  he  said. 
"Why  did  he  marry  her?" 

"You  heard  what  Arthur  said,"  answered  Susie 
bitterly.  "Whatever  happened  he  would  have  taken 
her  back.  The  other  man  knew  that  he  could  only 
bind  her  to  him  securely  by  going  through  the 
ceremonies  of  marriage." 

Dr.  Porhoet  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  presently 
he  left  her.  When  Susie  was  alone  she  began  to  weep 
broken-heartedly,  not  for  herself,  but  because  Arthur 
suffered  an  agony  that  was  hardly  endurable. 


Chapter  XI 

RTHUR  went  back  to  London  next  day. 

Susie  felt  it  was  impossible  any  longer  to 
stay  in  that  deserted  studio,  and  accepted  a  friend's 
invitation  to  spend  the  winter  in  Italy.  The  good 
Dr.  Porhoet  remained  in  Paris  with  his  books  and 
his  occult  studies. 

Susie  travelled  slowly  through  Tuscany  and 
Umbria.  Margaret  had  not  written  to  her,  and 
Susie,  on  leaving  Paris,  had  sent  her  friend's  be- 
longings to  an  address  from  which  she  knew  they 
would  eventually  be  forwarded.  She  could  not 
bring  herself  to  write.  In  answer  to  a  note  an- 
nouncing her  change  of  plans,  Arthur  wrote  briefly 
that  he  had  much  work  to  do  and  was  delivering  a 
new  course  of  lectures  at  St.  Luke's;  he  had  lately 
been  appointed  visiting  surgeon  to  another  hos- 
pital, and  his  private  practice  was  increasing.  He 
did  not  mention  Margaret.  His  letter  was  abrupt, 
formal,  and  constrained.  Susie,  reading  it  for  the 
tenth  time,  could  make  little  of  it.  She  saw  that 
he  wrote  only  from  civility,  without  interest;  and 
there  was  nothing  to  indicate  his  state  of  mind. 
Susie  and  her  companion  had  made  up  their  minds 
to  pass  some  weeks  in  Rome;  and  here,  to  her  great 
astonishment,  Susie  had  news  of  Haddo  and  his 
wife.  It  appeared  that  they  had  spent  some  time 


176  THE  MAGICIAN 

there,  and  the  little  English  circle  was  talking  still 
of  their  eccentricities.  They  travelled  in  some 
state,  with  a  courier  and  a  suite  of  servants;  they 
had  taken  a  carriage  and  were  in  the  habit  of  driv- 
ing every  afternoon  on  the  Pincio.  Haddo  had 
excited  attention  by  the  extravagance  of  his  cos- 
tume, and  Margaret  by  her  beauty;  she  was  to  be 
seen  in  her  box  at  the  opera  every  night,  and  her 
diamonds  were  the  envy  of  all  beholders.  Though 
people  had  laughed  a  good  deal  at  Haddo's  preten- 
tiousness, and  been  exasperated  by  his  arrogance, 
they  could  not  fail  to  be  impressed  by  his  obvious 
wealth.  But  finally  the  pair  had  disappeared  sud- 
denly without  saying  a  word  to  anybody.  A  good 
many  bills  remained  unpaid,  but  these,  Susie  learnt, 
had  been  settled  later.  It  was  reported  that  they 
were  now  in  Monte  Carlo. 

"Did  they  seem  happy?"  Susie  asked  the  gos- 
siping friend  who  gave  her  this  scanty  information. 

"I  think  so.  After  all,  Mrs.  Haddo  has  almost 
everything  that  a  woman  can  want,  riches,  beauty, 
nice  clothes,  jewels.  She  would  be  very  unreasonable 
not  to  be  happy." 

Susie  had  meant  to  pass  the  later  spring  on  the 
Riviera,  but  when  she  heard  that  the  Haddos  were 
there,  she  hesitated.  She  did  not  want  to  run  any 
risk  of  seeing  them,  and  yet  she  had  a  keen  de- 
sire to  find  out  exactly  how  things  were  going. 
Curiosity  and  distaste  struggled  in  her  mind,  but 
curiosity  won;  and  she  persuaded  her  friend  to  go 
actually  to  Monte  Carlo  instead  of  to  Beaulieu. 
At  first  Susie  did  not  see  the  Haddos;  but  rumour 


THE  MAGICIAN  177 

was  already  much  occupied  with  them,  and  she  had 
only  to  keep  her  ears  open.  In  that  strange  place 
where  all  that  is  extravagant  and  evil,  all  that  is 
morbid,  insane,  and  fantastic,  is  gathered  together, 
the  Haddos  were  in  fit  company.  They  were  no- 
torious for  their  assiduity  at  the  tables  and  for 
their  luck,  for  the  dinners  and  suppers  they  gave 
at  places  frequented  by  the  very  opulent,  and  for 
their  eccentric  appearance.  It  was  a  complex  pic- 
ture that  Susie  put  together  from  the  scraps  of  in- 
formation she  collected.  After  two  or  three  days 
she  saw  them  at  the  tables,  but  they  were  so  ab- 
sorbed in  their  game  that  she  felt  quite  safe  from 
discovery.  Margaret  was  playing,  but  Haddo 
stood  behind  her  and  directed  her  movements. 
Their  faces  were  extraordinarily  intent.  Susie 
fixed  her  attention  on  Margaret,  for  in  what  she 
had  heard  of  her,  she  had  been  quite  unable  to 
recognise  the  girl  who  had  been  her  friend.  And 
what  struck  her  most  now  was  that  there  was  in 
Margaret's  expression  a  singular  likeness  to  Haddo. 
Notwithstanding  her  exquisite  beauty,  she  had  a 
curiously  vicious  look,  which  suggested  that  some- 
how she  saw  literally  with  Oliver's  eyes.  They  had 
won  great  sums  that  evening  and  many  persons 
watched  them.  It  appeared  that  they  played  always 
in  this  fashion,  Margaret  putting  on  the  stakes  and 
Haddo  telling  her  what  to  do  and  when  to  stop. 
Susie  heard  two  Frenchmen  talking  of  them.  She 
listened  with  all  her  ears.  She  flushed  as  she  heard 
one  of  them  make  an  observation  about  Margaret 
which  was  more  than  coarse.  The  other  laughed. 


178  THE  MAGICIAN 

"It  is  incredible,"  he  said. 

"I  assure  you  it's  true.  They  have  been  mar- 
ried six  months,  a;id  she  is  still  only  his  wife  in 
name.  The  superstitious  through  all  the  ages  have 
believed  in  the  power  of  virginity,  and  the  church 
has  made  use  of  the  idea  for  its  own  ends.  The 
man  uses  her  simply  as  a  mascot." 

The  men  laughed,  and  their  conversation  pro- 
ceeded so  grossly  that  Susie's  cheeks  burned.  But 
what  she  had  heard  made  her  look  at  Margaret 
more  closely  still.  She  was  radiant.  Susie  could 
not  deny  that  something  had  come  to  her  that  gave 
a  new,  enigmatic4  savour  to  her  beauty.  She  was 
dressed  more  gorgeously  than  Susie's  fastidious 
taste  would  have  permitted;  and  her  diamonds, 
splendid  in  themselves,  were  too  magnificent  for 
the  occasion.  At  last,  sweeping  up  the  money, 
Haddo  touched  her  on  the  shoulder,  and  she  rose. 
Behind  her  was  standing  a  painted  woman  of 
notorious  disreputability.  Susie  was  astonished 
to  see  Margaret  smile  and  nod  as  she  passed 
her. 

Susie  learnt  that  the  Haddos  had  a  suite  of 
rooms  at  the  most  expensive  of  the  hotels.  They 
lived  in  a  whirl  of  gaiety.  They  knew  few  Eng- 
lish except  those  whose  reputations  were  damaged, 
but  seemed  to  prefer  the  society  of  those  foreigners 
whose  wealth  and  eccentricities  made  them  the 
cynosure  of  that  little  world.  Afterwards  she  often 
saw  them,  in  company  of  Russian  Grand-dukes  and 
their  mistresses,  of  South  American  women  with 
prodigious  diamonds,  of  noble  gamblers  and  great 


THE  MAGICIAN  179 

ladies  of  doubtful  fame,  of  strange  men  over- 
dressed and  scented.  Rumour  was  increasingly 
busy  with  them.  Margaret  moved  among  all 
these  queer  people  with  a  cold  mysteriousness  that 
excited  the  curiosity  of  those  sated  idlers.  The 
suggestion  which  Susie  had  overheard  was  repeated 
more  circumstantially.  But  to  this  was  joined 
presently  the  report  of  orgies  that  were  enacted  in 
the  darkened  sitting-room  of  the  hotel,  when  all 
that  was  noble  and  vicious  in  Monte  Carlo  was 
present.  Oliver's  eccentric  imagination  invented 
whimsical  festivities.  He  had  a  passion  for  dis- 
guise, and  he  gave  a  fancy  dress  party  of  which 
fabulous  storie;s  were  told.  He  sought  to  revive  the 
mystical  ceremonies  of  old  religions,  and  it  was  re- 
ported that  horrible  rites  had  been  performed  in 
the  garden  of  a  villa,  under  the  shining  moon,  in 
imitation  of  those  he  had  seen  in  Eastern  places.  It 
was  said  that  Haddo  had  magical  powers  of  ex- 
traordinary character,  and  the  tired  imagination  of 
those  pleasure-seekers  was  tickled  by  his  talk  of 
black  art.  Some  even  asserted  that  the  blasphe- 
mous ceremonies  of  the  Black  Mass  had  been  cele- 
brated in  the  house  of  a  Polish  prince.  People 
babbled  of  satanism  and  of  necromancy.  Haddo 
was  thought  to  be  immersed  in  occult  studies  for 
the  performance  of  a  magical  operation;  and  some 
said  that  he  was  occupied  with  the  Magnum  Opus, 
the  greatest  and  most  fantastic  of  alchemical  ex- 
periments. Gradually  these  stories  were  narrowed 
down  to  the  monstrous  assertion  that  he  was  at- 
tempting to  create  human  beings.  He  had  ex- 


180  THE  MAGICIAN 

plained  at  length  to  somebody  that  magical  receipts 
existed  for  the  manufacture  of  homunculi. 

Haddo  was  known  generally  by  the  name  he  was 
pleased  to  give  himself,  The  Brother  of  the  Shadow; 
but  most  people  used  it  in  derision,  for  it  contrasted 
absurdly  with  his  astonishing  bulk.  They  were 
amused  or  outraged  by  his  vanity,  but  they  could 
not  help  talking  about  him,  and  Susie  knew  well 
enough  by  now  that  nothing  pleased  him  more.  His 
exploits  as  a  lion-hunter  were  well  known,  and  it 
was  reported  that  human  blood  was  on  his  hands. 
It  was  soon  discovered  that  he  had  a  queer  power 
over  animals,  so  that  in  his  presence  they  were 
seized  with  unaccountable  terror.  He  succeeded  in 
surrounding  himself  with  an  atmosphere  of  the  fabu- 
lous, and  nothing  that  was  told  of  him  was  too 
extravagant  for  belief.  But  unpleasant  stories  were 
circulated  also,  and  someone  related  that  he  had 
been  turned  out  of  a  club  in  Vienna  for  cheating  at 
cards.  He  played  many  games,  but  here,  as  at 
Oxford,  it  was  found  that  he  was  an  unscrupulous 
opponent.  And  those  old  rumours  followed  him 
that  he  took  strange  drugs.  He  was  supposed  to 
have  odious  vices,  and  people  whispered  to  one 
another  of  scandals  that  had  been  with  difficulty 
suppressed.  No  one  quite  understood  on  what  terms 
he  was  with  his  wife,  and  it  was  vaguely  asserted 
that  he  was  at  times  brutally  cruel  to  her.  Susie's 
heart  sank  when  she  heard  this;  but  on  the  few 
occasions  upon  which  she  caught  sight  of  Margaret, 
she  seemed  in  the  highest  spirits.  One  story  inex- 
pressibly shocked  her.  After  lunching  at  some 


THE  MAGICIAN  181 

restaurant,  Haddo  gave  a  bad  louis  among  the 
money  with  which  he  paid  the  bill,  and  there  was  a 
disgraceful  altercation  with  the  waiter.  He  refused 
to  change  the  coin  till  a  policeman  was  brought  in. 
His  guests  were  furious,  and  several  took  the  first 
opportunity  to  cut  him  dead.  One  of  those  present 
narrated  the  scene  to  Susie,  and  she  was  told  that 
Margaret  laughed  unconcernedly  with  her  neighbour 
while  the  sordid  quarrel  was  proceeding.  The  man's 
blood  was  as  good  as  his  fortune  was  substantial, 
but  it  seemed  to  please  him  to  behave  like  an  adven- 
turer. The  incident  was  soon  common  property,  and 
gradually  the  Haddos  found  themselves  cold-shoul- 
dered. The  persons  with  whom  they  mostly  con- 
sorted had  reputations  too  delicate  to  stand  the 
glare  of  publicity  which  shone  upon  all  who  were 
connected  with  him,  and  the  suggestion  of  police 
had  thrown  a  shudder  down  many  a  spine.  What 
had  happened  in  Rome  happened  here  again:  they 
suddenly  disappeared. 

Susie  had  not  been  in  London  for  some  time,  and 
as  the  spring  advanced  she  remembered  that  her 
friends  would  be  glad  to  see  her.  It  would  be 
charming  to  spend  a  few  weeks  there  with  an  ade- 
quate income;  for  its  pleasures  had  hitherto  been 
closed  to  her,  and  she  looked  forward  to  her  visit 
as  if  it  were  to  a  foreign  city.  But  though  she 
would  not  confess  it  to  herself,  her  desire  to  see 
Arthur  was  the  strongest  of  her  motives.  Time  and 
absence  had  deadened  a  little  the  intensity  of  her 
feelings,  and  she  could  afford  to  acknowledge  that 
she  regarded  him  with  very  great  affection.  She 


182  THE  MAGICIAN 

knew  that  he  would  never  care  for  her,  but  she  was 
content  to  be  his  friend.  She  could  think  of  him 
without  pain. 

Susie  stayed  in  Paris  for  three  weeks  to  buy  some 
of  the  clothes  which  she  asserted  were  now  her 
only  pleasure  in  life,  and  then  went  to  London. 

She  wrote  to  Arthur,  and  he  invited  her  at  once  to 
lunch  with  him  at  a  restaurant.  She  was  vexed, 
for  she  felt  they  could  have  spoken  more  freely  in 
his  own  house;  but  as  soon  as  she  saw  him,  she 
realised  that  he  had  chosen  their  meeting-place 
deliberately.  The  crowd  of  people  that  surrounded 
them,  the  gaiety,  the  playing  of  the  band,  prevented 
any  intimacy  of  conversation.  They  were  forced 
to  talk  of  commonplaces.  Susie  was  positively  ter- 
rified at  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  him. 
He  looked  ten  years  older;  he  had  lost  flesh,  and 
his  hair  was  sprinkled  with  white.  His  face  was 
extraordinarily  drawn,  and  his  eyes  were  weary 
from  lack  of  sleep.  But  what  most  struck  her  was 
the  change  in  his  expression.  The  look  of  pain 
which  she  had  seen  on  his  face  that  last  evening  in 
the  studio  was  now  become  settled,  so  that  it  al- 
tered the  lines  of  his  countenance.  It  was  painful 
to  look  at  him.  He  was  more  silent  than  ever, 
and  when  he  spoke  it  was  in  a  strange  low  voice 
that  seemed  to  come  from  a  long  way  off.  To  be 
with  him  made  Susie  curiously  uneasy,  for  there 
was  a  strenuousness  in  him  which  deprived  his 
manner  of  all  repose.  One  of  the  things  that  had 
pleased  her  in  him  formerly  was  the  tranquillity 
which  gave  one  the  impression  that  here  was  a  man 


THE  MAGICIAN  183 

who  could  be  relied  on  in  difficulties.  At  first  she 
could  not  understand  exactly  what  had  happened, 
but  in  a  moment  saw  that  he  was  making  an  un- 
ceasing effort  at  self-control.  He  was  never  free 
from  suffering  and  he  was  constantly  on  the  alert 
to  prevent  anyone  from  seeing  it.  The  strain  gave 
him  a  peculiar  restlessness. 

But  he  was  gentler  than  he  had  ever  been  before. 
He  seemed  genuinely  glad  to  see  her  and  asked 
about  her  travels  with  interest.  Susie  led  him  to 
talk  of  himself,  and  he  spoke  willingly  enough  of 
his  daily  round.  He  was  earning  a  good  deal  of 
money,  and  his  professional  reputation  was  mak- 
ing steady  progress.  He  worked  hard.,  Besides 
his  duties  at  the  two  hospitals  with  which  he  was 
now  connected,  his  teaching,  and  his  private  practice, 
he  had  read  of  late  one  or  two  papers  before  scientific 
bodies,  and  was  editing  a  large  work  on  surgery. 

"How  on  earth  can  you  find  time  to  do  so  much?" 
asked  Susie. 

"I  can  do  with  less  sleep  than  I  used,"  he  an- 
swered. "It  almost  doubles  my  working-day." 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  looked  down.  His  re- 
mark had  given  accidentally  some  hint  at  the  inner 
life  which  he  was  striving  to  conceal.  Susie  knew 
that  her  suspicion  was  well-founded.  She  thought 
of  the  long  hours  he  lay  awake,  trying  in  vain  to 
drive  from  his  mind  the  agony  that  tortured  him, 
and  the  short  intervals  of  troubled  sleep.  She 
knew  that  he  delayed  as  long  as  possible  the  fatal 
moment  of  going  to  bed  and  welcomed  the  first 
light  of  day,  which  gave  him  an  excuse  for  getting 


184  THE  MAGICIAN 

up.  And  because  he  knew  that  he  had  let  out  the 
truth  he  was  embarrassed.  They  sat  in  awkward 
silence.  To  Susie  the  tragic  figure  in  front  of  her 
was  singularly  impressive  amid  that  lighthearted 
throng:  all  about  them  happy  persons  were  enjoy- 
ing the  good  things  of  life,  talking,  laughing,  and 
making  merry.  She  wondered  what  refinement  of 
self-torture  had  driven  him  to  choose  that  place  to 
come  to.  He  must  hate  it. 

When  they  finished  luncheon,  Susie  took  her 
courage  in  both  hands. 

"Won't  you  come  back  to  my  rooms  for  half  an 
hour?  We  can't  talk  here." 

He  made  an  instinctive  motion  of  withdrawal, 
as  though  he  sought  to  escape.  He  did  not  answer 
immediately,  and  she  insisted. 

"You  have  nothing  to  do  for  an  hour,  and  there 
are  many  things  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about." 

"The  only  way  to  be  strong  is  never  to  sur- 
render to  one's  weakness,"  he  said,  almost  in  a 
whisper,  as  though  ashamed  to  talk  so  intimately. 

"Then  you  won't  come?" 

"No." 

It  was  not  necessary  to  specify  the  matter  which 
it  was  proposed  to  discuss.  Arthur  knew  perfectly 
that  Susie  wished  to  talk  of  Margaret,  and  he  was 
too  straightforward  to  pretend  otherwise.  Susie 
paused  for  one  moment. 

"I  was  never  able  to  give  Margaret  your  message. 
She  did  not  write  to  me." 

A  certain  wildness  came  into  his  eyes,  as  if  the 
effort  he  made  was  almost  too  much  for  him. 


THE  MAGICIAN  185 

"I  saw  her  in  Monte  Carlo,"  said  Susie.  "I 
thought  you  might  like  to  hear  about  her." 

"I  don't  see  that  it  can  do  any  good,"  he  an- 
swered. 

Susie  made  a  little  hopeless  gesture.  She  was 
beaten. 

"Shall  we  go?"  she  said. 

"You  are  not  angry  with  me?"  he  asked.  "I 
know  you  mean  to  be  kind.  I'm  very  grateful  to 
you." 

"I  shall  never  be  angry  with  you,"  she  smiled. 

Arthur  paid  the  bill,  and  they  threaded  their  way 
among  the  tables.  At  the  door  she  held  out  her 
hand. 

"I  think  you  do  wrong  in  shutting  yourself  away 
from  all  human  comradeship,"  she  said,  with  that 
good-humoured  smile  of  hers.  "You  must  know 
that  you  will  only  grow  absurdly  morbid." 

"I  go  out  a  great  deal,"  he  answered  patiently, 
as  though  he  reasoned  with  a  child.  "I  make  a 
point  of  offering  myself  distractions  from  my  work. 
I  go  to  the  opera  two  or  three  times  a  week." 

"I  thought  you  didn't  care  for  music." 

"I  don't  think  I  did,"  he  answered.  "But  I  find 
it  rests  me." 

He  spoke  with  a  weariness  that  was  appalling. 
Susie  had  never  beheld  so  plainly  the  torment  of  a 
soul  in  pain. 

"Won't  you  let  me  come  to  the  opera  with  you 
one  night?"  she  asked.  "Or  does  it  bore  you  to 
see  me?" 

"I  should  like  it  above  all  things,"  he  smiled, 


186  THE  MAGICIAN 

quite  brightly.  "You're  like  a  wonderful  tonic. 
They're  giving  Tristan  on  Thursday.  Shall  we  go 
together?" 

"I  should  enjoy  it  enormously/' 

She  shook  hands  with  him  and  jumped  into  a  cab. 

"Oh,  poor  thing!"  she  murmured.  "Poor  thing! 
What  can  I  do  for  him?" 

She  clenched  her  hands  when  she  thought  of 
Margaret.  It  was  monstrous  that  she  should  have 
caused  such  havoc  in  that  good,  strong  man. 

"Oh,  I  hope  she'll  suffer  for  it,"  she  whispered 
vindictively.  "I  hope  she'll  suffer  all  the  agony  that 
he  has  suffered." 

Susie  dressed  herself  for  Covent  Garden  as  only 
she  could  do.  Her  gown  pleased  her  exceedingly, 
not  only  because  it  was  admirably  made,  but  be- 
cause it  had  cost  far  more  than  she  could  afford. 
To  dress  well  was  her  only  extravagance.  It  was 
of  taffeta  silk,  in  that  exquisite  green  which  the 
learned  in  such  matters  call  Eau  de  Nil;  and  its 
beauty  was  enhanced  by  the  old  lace  which  had 
formed  not  the  least  treasured  part  of  her  inherit- 
ance. In  her  hair  she  wore  an  ornament  of  old 
Spanish  paste,  of  exquisite  workmanship,  and  round 
her  neck  a  chain  which  had  once  adorned  that  of  a 
madonna  in  an  Andalusian  church.  Her  individu- 
ality made  even  her  plainness  attractive.  She 
smiled  at  herself  in  the  glass  ruefully  because  Arthur 
would  never  notice  that  she  was  perfectly  dressed. 

When  she  tripped  down  the  stairs  and  across  the 
pavement  to  the  cab  with  which  he  fetched  her, 
Susie  held  up  her  skirt  with  a  grace  she  flattered 


THE  MAGICIAN  187 

herself  was  quite  Parisian.  As  they  drove  along 
she  flirted  a  little  with  her  Spanish  fan  and  stole  a 
glance  at  herself  in  the  glass.  Her  gloves  were  so 
long  and  so  new  and  so  expensive  that  she  was 
really  indifferent  to  Arthur's  inattention. 

Her  joyous  temperament  expanded  like  a  spring 
flower  when  she  found  herself  in  the  Opera  House. 
She  put  up  her  glasses  and  examined  the  women  as 
they  came  into  the  boxes  of  the  Grand  Tier.  Arthur 
pointed  out  a  number  of  persons  whose  names  were 
familiar  to  her,  but  she  felt  the  effort  he  was  making 
to  be  amiable.  The  weariness  of  his  mouth  that 
evening  was  more  noticeable  because  of  the  careless 
throng.  But  when  the  music  began  he  seemed  to 
forget  that  any  eye  was  upon  him;  he  relaxed  the 
constant  tension  in  which  he  held  himself;  and 
Susie,  watching  him  surreptitiously,  saw  the  emo- 
tions chase  one  another  across  his  face.  It  was  now 
very  mobile.  The  passionate  sounds  ate  into  his 
soul,  mingling  with  his  own  love  and  his  own  sorrow, 
till  he  was  taken  out  of  himself;  and  sometimes  he 
panted  strangely.  Through  the  interval  he  remained 
absorbed  in  his  emotion.  He  sat  as  quietly  as 
before  and  did  not  speak  a  word.  Susie  understood 
why  Arthur,  notwithstanding  his  old  indifference, 
now  showed  such  eager  appreciation  of  music:  it 
eased  the  pain  he  suffered  by  transferring  it  to  an 
ideal  world,  and  his  own  grievous  sorrow  made  the 
music  so  real  that  it  gave  him  an  enjoyment  of 
extraordinary  vehemence.  When  it  was  all  over 
and  Isolde  had  given  her  last  wail  of  sorrow,  Arthur 
was  so  exhausted  that  he  could  hardly  stir. 


188  THE  MAGICIAN 

But  they  went  out  with  the  crowd,  and  while 
they  were  waiting  in  the  vestibule  for  space  to  move 
in,  a  common  friend  came  up  to  them.  This  was 
Arbuthnot,  an  eye-specialist,  whom  Susie  had  met 
on  the  Riviera  and  who,  she  presently  discovered, 
was  a  colleague  of  Arthur's  at  St.  Luke's.  He  was 
a  prosperous  bachelor  with  grey  hair  and  a  red, 
contented  face,  well-to-do,  for  his  practice  was  large, 
and  lavish  with  his  money.  He  had  taken  Susie 
out  to  luncheon  once  or  twice  in  Monte  Carlo;  for 
he  liked  women,  pretty  or  plain,  and  she  attracted 
him  by  her  good  humour.  He  rushed  up  to  them 
now  and  wrung  their  hands.  He  spoke  in  a  jovial 
voice. 

"The  very  people  I  wanted  to  see!  Why  haven't 
you  been  to  see  me,  you  wicked  woman?  I'm  sure 
your  eyes  are  in  a  deplorable  condition." 

"Do  you  think  I  would  let  a  bold,  bad  man  like 
you  stare  into  them  with  an  ophthalmoscope?'* 
laughed  Susie. 

"Now,  look  here,  I  want  you  both  to  do  me  a 
great  favour.  I'm  giving  a  supper  party  at  the 
Savoy,  and  two  of  my  people  have  suddenly  failed 
me.  The  table  is  ordered  for  eight,  and  you  must 
come  and  take  their  places/' 

"I'm  afraid  I  must  get  home,"  said  Arthur.  "I 
have  a  deuce  of  a  lot  of  work  to  do." 

"Nonsense,"  answered  Arbuthnot.  "You  work 
much  too  hard,  and  a  little  relaxation  will  do  you 
good."  He  turned  to  Susie:  "I  know  you  like 
curiosities  in  human  nature;  I'm  having  a  man  and 
his  wife  who  will  positively  thrill  you,  they're  so 


THE  MAGICIAN  189 

queer,  and  a  lovely  actress,  and  an  awfully  jolly 
American  girl/* 

"I  should  love  to  come,"  said  Susie,  with  an  ap- 
pealing look  at  Arthur,  "if  only  to  show  you  how 
much  more  amusing  I  am  than  lovely  actresses." 

Arthur,  forcing  himself  to  smile,  accepted  the  in- 
vitation. The  specialist  patted  him  cheerily  on  the 
4>ack,  and  they  agreed  to  meet  at  the  Savoy. 

"It's  awfully  good  of  you  to  come,"  said  Susie, 
as  they  drove  along.  "Do  you  know,  I've  never 
been  there  in  my  life,  and  I'm  palpitating  with  ex- 


citement." 


"What  a  selfish  brute  I  was  to  refuse!"  he  an- 
swered. 

When  Susie  came  out  of  the  dressing-room,  she 
found  Arthur  waiting  for  her.  She  was  in  the  best 
of  spirits. 

"Now  you  must  say  you  like  my  frock.  I've 
seen  six  women  turn  green  with  envy  at  the  sight 
of  it.  They  think  I  must  be  French,  and  they're 
sure  I'm  not  respectable." 

"That  is  evidently  a  great  compliment,"  he  smiled. 

At  that  moment  Arbuthnot  came  up  to  them  in 
his  eager  way  and  seized  their  arms. 

"Come  along.  We're  waiting  for  you.  I'll  just 
introduce  you  all  round,  and  then  we'll  go  in  to 
supper." 

They  walked  down  the  steps  into  the  foyer,  and 
he  led  them  to  a  group  of  people.  They  found 
themselves  face  to  face  with  Oliver  Haddo  and 
Margaret. 

"Mr.  Arthur  Burdon— Mrs.  Haddo.    Mr.  Burdon 


190  THE  MAGICIAN 

is  a  colleague  of  mine  at  St.  Luke's;  and  he  will  cut 
out  your  appendix  in  a  shorter  time  than  any  man 
alive." 

Arbuthnot  rattled  on.  He  did  not  notice  that 
Arthur  had  grown  ghastly  pale  and  that  Margaret 
was  blank  with  consternation.  Haddo,  his  heavy 
face  wreathed  with  smiles,  stepped  forward  heartily. 
He  seemed  thoroughly  to  enjoy  the  situation. 

"Mr.  Burdon  is  an  old  friend  of  ours/'  he  said. 
"In  fact,  it  was  he  who  introduced  me  to  my  wife. 
And  Miss  Boyd  and  I  have  discussed  Art  and  the 
Immortality  of  the  Soul  with  the  gravity  due  to 
such  topics." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  Susie  took  it.  She  had 
a  horror  of  scenes,  and,  though  this  encounter  was 
as  unexpected  as  it  was  disagreeable,  she  felt  it 
needful  to  behave  naturally.  She  shook  hands  with 
Margaret. 

"How  disappointing!"  cried  their  host.  "I  was 
hoping  to  give  Miss  Boyd  something  quite  new  in 
the  way  of  magicians,  and  behold!  she  knows  all 
about  him." 

"If  she  did  I'm  quite  sure  she  wouldn't  speak  to 
me."  said  Oliver,  with  a  bantering  smile. 

They  went  into  the  supper-room. 

"Now,  how  shall  we  sit?"  said  Arbuthnot,  glanc- 
ing round  the  table. 

Oliver  looked  at  Arthur,  and  his  eyes  twinkled. 

"You  must  really  let  my  wife  and  Mr.  Burdon 
be  together.  They  haven't  seen  one  another  for  so 
long  that  I'm  sure  they  have  no  end  of  things  to 
talk  about."  He  chuckled  to  himself.  "And  pray 


THE  MAGICIAN  191 

give  me  Miss  Boyd  so  that  she  can  abuse  me  to  her 
heart's  content." 

This  arrangement  thoroughly  suited  the  gay  spe- 
cialist, for  he  was  able  to  put  the  beautiful  actress 
on  one  side  of  him  and  the  charming  American  on 
the  other.  He  rubbed  his  hands. 

"I  feel  that  we're  going  to  have  a  delightful 
supper/' 

Oliver  laughed  boisterously.  He  took,  as  was  his 
habit,  the  whole  conversation  upon  himself,  and 
Susie  was  obliged  to  confess  that  he  was  at  his 
best.  There  was  a  grotesque  drollery  about  him 
that  was  very  diverting,  and  it  was  almost  impos- 
sible to  resist  him.  He  ate  and  drank  with  tremen- 
dous appetite.  Susie  thanked  her  stars  at  that 
moment  that  she  was  a  woman  who  knew  by  long 
practice  how  to  conceal  her  feelings,  for  Arthur, 
overcome  with  dismay  at  the  meeting,  sat  in  stony 
silence.  But  she  talked  gaily.  She  chaffed  Oliver 
as  though  he  were  an  old  friend  and  laughed  viva- 
ciously. She  noticed  meanwhile  that  Haddo,  more 
extravagantly  dressed  than  usual,  had  managed  to 
get  an  odd  fantasy  into  his  evening  clothes;  he  wore 
knee-breeches,  which  in  itself  was  enough  to  excite 
attention;  but  his  frilled  shirt,  his  velvet  collar,  and 
oddly-cut  satin  waistcoat,  gave  him  the  appearance 
of  a  comic  Frenchman.  Now  that  she  was  able  to 
examine  him  more  closely,  she  saw  that  in  the  last 
six  months  he  was  grown  much  balder;  and  the  shiny 
whiteness  of  his  naked  crown  contrasted  oddly  with 
the  redness  of  his  face.  He  was  stouter,  too,  and  the 
fat  hung  in  heavy  folds  under  his  chin;  his  paunch 


192  THE  MAGICIAN 

was  preposterous.  The  vivacity  of  his  movements 
made  his  huge  corpulence  subtly  alarming.  He  was 
growing  indeed  strangely  terrible  in  appearance.  His 
eyes  had  still  that  fixed,  parallel  look,  but  there  was 
in  them  now  at  times  a  ferocious  gleam.  Margaret 
was  as  beautiful  as  ever,  but  Susie  noticed  that  his 
influence  was  apparent  in  her  dress;  for  there  could 
be  no  doubt  that  it  had  crossed  the  line  of  individ- 
uality and  had  degenerated  into  the  eccentric.  Her 
gown  was  much  too  gorgeous.  It  told  against  the 
classical  character  of  her  beauty.  Susie  shuddered  a 
little,  for  it  reminded  her  of  a  courtesan's. 

Margaret  talked  and  laughed  as  much  as  her  hus- 
band, but  Susie  could  not  tell  whether  this  anima- 
tion was  affected  or  due  to  an  utter  callousness. 
Her  voice  seemed  natural  enough,  yet  it  was  incon- 
ceivable that  she  should  be  so  lighthearted.  Perhaps 
she  was  trying  to  show  that  she  was  happy.  The 
supper  proceeded,  and  the  lights,  the  surrounding 
gaiety,  the  champagne,  made  everyone  more  lively. 
Their  host  was  in  uproarious  spirits.  He  told  a 
story  or  two  at  which  everyone  laughed.  Oliver 
Haddo  had  an  amusing  anecdote  handy.  It  was  a 
little  risky,  but  it  was  so  funnily  narrated  that  every- 
one roared  but  Arthur,  who  remained  in  perfect 
silence.  Margaret  had  been  drinking  glass  after 
glass  of  wine,  and  no  sooner  had  her  husband  finished 
than  she  capped  his  story  with  another.  But  whereas 
his  was  wittily  immoral,  hers  was  simply  gross.  At 
first  the  other  women  could  not  understand  to  what 
she  was  tending,  but  when  they  saw,  they  looked 
down  awkwardly  at  their  plates.  Arbuthnot,  Haddo, 


THE  MAGICIAN  193 

and  the  other  man  who  was  there  laughed  very 
heartily;  but  Arthur  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair. 
He  felt  horribly  uncomfortable.  He  was  ashamed. 
He  dared  not  look  at  Margaret.  It  was  inconceiv- 
able that  from  her  exquisite  mouth  such  indecency 
should  issue.  Margaret,  apparently  quite  uncon- 
scious of  the  effect  she  had  produced,  went  on  talking 
and  laughing. 

Soon  the  lights  were  put  out,  and  Arthur's  agony 
was  ended.  He  wanted  to  rush  away,  to  hide  his 
face,  to  forget  the  sight  of  her  and  her  gaiety,  above 
all  to  forget  that  story.  It  was  horrible,  horrible. 

She  shook  hands  with  him  quite  lightly. 

"You  must  come  and  see  us  one  day.  We've  got 
rooms  at  the  Carlton.  ' 

He  bowed  and  did  not  answer.  Susie  had  gone 
to  the  dressing-room  to  get  her  cloak.  She  stood  at 
the  door  when  Margaret  came  out. 

"Can  we  drop  you  anywhere?"  said  Margaret. 
"You  must  come  and  see  us  when  you  have  nothing 
better  to  do." 

Susie  threw  back  her  head.  Arthur  was  standing 
just  in  front  of  them,  looking  down  at  the  ground  in 
complete  abstraction. 

"Do  you  see  him?"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice  quiver- 
ing with  indignation.  "That  is  what  you  have  made 
him." 

He  looked  up  at  that  moment  and  turned  upon 
them  his  sunken,  tormented  eyes.  They  saw  his 
wan,  pallid  face  with  its  look  of  hopeless  woe. 

"Do  you  know  that  he's  killing  himself  on  your 
account?  He  can't  sleep  at  night.  He's  suffered  the 


194  THE  MAGICIAN 

tortures  of  the  damned.  Oh,  I  hope  you'll  suffer  as 
he's  suffered!" 

"I  wonder  that  you  blame  me/'  said  Margaret. 
"You  ought  to  be  rather  grateful." 

"Why?" 

"You're  not  going  to  deny  that  you've  loved  him 
passionately  from  the  first  day  you  saw  him?  Do 
you  think  I  didn't  see  that  you  cared  for  him  in 
Paris?  You  care  for  him  now  more  than  ever." 

Susie  felt  suddenly  sick  at  heart.  She  had  never 
dreamt  that  her  secret  was  discovered.  Margaret 
gave  a  bitter  little  laugh  and  walked  past  her. 


Chapter  XII 

ARTHUR  BURDON  spent  two  or  three  days  in  a 
jT\  state  of  utter  uncertainty,  but  at  last  the  idea 
he  had  in  mind  grew  so  compelling  as  to  overcome  all 
objections.  He  went  to  the  Carlton  and  asked  for 
Margaret.  He  had  learnt  from  the  porter  that 
Haddo  was  gone  out  and  so  counted  on  finding  her 
alone.  A  simple  device  enabled  him  to  avoid  send- 
ing up  his  name.  When  he  was  shown  into  her 
private  room  Margaret  was  sitting  down.  She 
neither  read  nor  worked. 

"You  told  me  I  might  call  upon  you,"  said 
Arthur. 

She  stood  up.  without  answering,  and  turned 
deathly  pale. 

"May  I  sit  down?"  he  asked. 

She  bowed  her  head.  For  a  moment  they  looked 
at  one  another  in  silence.  Arthur  suddenly  forgot 
all  he  had  prepared  to  say.  His  intrusion  seemed 
intolerable. 

"Why  have  you  come?'5  she  said,  hoarsely. 

They  both  felt  that  it  was  useless  to  attempt  the 
conventionality  of  society.  It  was  impossible  to 
deal  with  the  polite  commonplaces  that  ease  an 
awkward  situation. 

"I  thought  that  I  might  be  able  to  help  you,"  he 
answered  gravely. 

195 


196  THE  MAGICIAN 

"I  want  no  help.  I'm  perfectly  happy.  I  have 
nothing  to  say  to  you." 

She  spoke  hurriedly,  with  a  certain  nervousness, 
and  her  eyes  were  fixed  anxiously  on  the  door  as 
though  she  feared  that  someone  would  come  in. 

"I  feel  that  we  have  much  to  say  to  one  another," 
he  insisted.  "If  it  is  inconvenient  for  us  to  talk  here, 
will  you  not  come  and  see  me?" 

"He'd  know,"  she  cried  suddenly,  as  if  the  words 
were  dragged  out  of  her.  "D'you  think  anything 
can  be  hidden  from  him?" 

Arthur  glanced  at  her.  He  was  horrified  by  the 
terror  that  was  in  her  eyes.  In  the  full  light  of  day 
a  change  was  plain  in  her  expression.  Her  face  was 
strangely  drawn,  and  pinched,  and  there  was  in  it  a 
constant  look  as  of  a  person  cowed.  Arthur  turned 
away. 

"I  want  you  to  know  that  I  do  not  blame  you  in 
the  least  for  anything  you  did.  No  action  of  yours 
can  ever  lessen  my  affection  for  you." 

"Oh,  why  did  you  come  here?  Why  do  you  tor- 
ture me  by  saying  such  things?" 

She  burst  on  a  sudden  into  a  flood  of  tears  and 
walked  excitedly  up  and  down  the  room. 

"Oh,  if  you  wanted  me  to  be  punished  for  the  pain 
I've  caused  you,  you  can  triumph  now.  Susie  said 
she  hoped  I'd  suffer  all  the  agony  that  Fve  made  you 
suffer.  If  she  only  knew!" 

Margaret  gave  a  hysterical  laugh.  She  flung  her- 
self on  her  knees  by  Arthur's  side  and  seized  his 
hands. 

"Did  she  think  I  didn't  see?     My  heart  bled  when 


THE  MAGICIAN  197 

I  looked  at  your  poor  wan  face  and  your  tortured 
eyes.  Oh,  you've  changed.  I  could  never  have 
believed  that  a  man  could  change  so  much  in  so  few 
months,  and  it's  I  who've  caused  it  all.  Oh,  Arthur, 
Arthur,  you  must  forgive  me.  And  you  must  pity 
me." 

"But  there's  nothing  to  forgive,  darling,"  he  cried. 

She  looked  at  him  steadily.  Her  eyes  now  were 
shining  with  a  hard  brightness. 

"You  say  that,  but  you  don't  really  think  it.  And 
yet  if  you  only  knew,  all  that  I  have  endured  is 
on  your  account." 

She  made  a  great  effort  to  be  calm. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Arthur. 

"He  never  loved  me,  he  would  never  have  thought 
of  me  if  he  hadn't  wanted  to  wound  you  in  what  you 
treasured  most.  He  hated  you,  and  he's  made  me 
what  I  am  so  that  you  might  suffer.  It  isn't  I  who 
did  all  this,  but  a  devil  within  me;  it  isn't  I  who 
lied  to  you  and  left  you  and  caused  you  all  this 
unhappiness." 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  sighed  deeply. 

"Once  I  thought  he  was  dying,  and  I  helped  him. 
I  took  him  into  the  studio  and  gave  him  water.  And 
he  gained  some  dreadful  power  over  me  so  that 
I've  been  like  wax  in  his  hands.  All  my  will  has 
disappeared,  and  I  have  to  do  his  bidding.  And 
if  I  try  to  resist  .  .  " 

Her  face  twitched  with  pain  and  fear. 

"I've  found  out  everything  since.  I  know  that 
on  that  day  when  he  seemed  to  be  at  the  point  of 
death,  he  was  merely  playing  a  trick  on  me,  and  he 


198  THE  MAGICIAN 

got  Susie  out  of  the  way  by  sending  a  telegram 
from  a  girl  whose  name  he  had  seen  on  a  photograph. 
I've  heard  him  roar  with  laughter  at  his  cleverness/* 

She  stopped  suddenly,  and  a  look  of  frightful 
agony  crossed  her  face. 

"And  at  this  very  minute,  for  all  I  know,  it  may 
be  by  his  influence  that  I  say  this  to  you,  so  that  he 
may  cause  you  still  greater  suffering  by  allowing 
me  to  tell  you  that  he  never  cared  for  me.  You 
know  now  that  my  life  is  hell,  and  his  vengeance  is 
complete." 

"Vengeance  for  what?" 

"Don't  you  remember  that  you  hit  him  once,  and 
kicked  him  unmercifully?  I  know  him  well  now. 
He  could  have  killed  you,  but  he  hated  you  too 
much.  It  pleased  him  a  thousand  times  more  to 
devise  this  torture  for  you  and  me." 

Margaret's  agitation  was  terrible  to  behold.  This 
was  the  first  time  that  she  had  ever  spoken  to  a 
soul  of  all  these  things,  and  now  the  long  restraint 
had  burst  as  burst  the  waters  of  a  dam.  Arthur 
sought  to  calm  her. 

"You're  ill  and  overwrought.  You  must  try  to 
compose  yourself.  After  all  Haddo  is  a  human  being 
like  the  rest  of  us." 

"Yes,  you  always  laughed  at  his  claims.  You 
wouldn't  listen  to  the  things  he  said.  But  I  know. 
Oh,  I  can't  explain  it;  I  daresay  common-sense  and 
probability  are  all  against  it,  but  I've  seen  things 
with  my  own  eyes  that  pass  all  comprehension.  I 
tell  you  he  has  powers  of  the  most  awful  kind. 
That  first  day  when  I  was  alone  with  him,  he  seemed 


THE  MAGICIAN  199 

to  take  me  to  some  kind  of  sabbath.  I  don't  know 
what  it  was,  but  I  saw  horrors,  vile  horrors,  that 
rankled  for  ever  after  like  poison  in  my  mind; 
and,  when  we  went  up  to  his  house  in  Staffordshire, 
I  recognised  the  scene;  I  recognised  the  arid  rocks, 
and  the  trees,  and  the  lay  of  the  land.  I  knew  I'd 
been  there  before  on  that  fatal  afternoon.  Oh,  you 
must  believe  me!  Sometimes  I  think  I  shall  go 
mad  with  the  terror  of  it  all." 

Arthur  did  not  speak.  Her  words  caused  a  ghastly 
suspicion  to  flash  through  his  mind,  and  he  could 
hardly  contain  himself.  He  thought  that  some 
dreadful  shock  had  turned  her  brain.  She  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "you  must  come  away  at 
once.  You  can't  continue  to  live  with  him.  You 
must  never  go  back  to  Skene." 

"I  can't  leave  him.  We're  bound  together  in- 
separably." 

"But  it's  monstrous.  There  can  be  nothing  to 
keep  you  to  him.  Come  back  to  Susie.  She'll  be 
very  kind  to  you;  she'll  help  you  to  forget  all  you've 
endured." 

"It's  no  use.    You  can  do  nothing  for  me." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because,  notwithstanding,  I  love  him  with  all 
my  soul." 

"Margaret!" 

"I  hate  him.  He  fills  me  with  repulsion.  And 
yet  I  do  not  know  what  there  is  in  my  blood  that 
draws  me  to  him  against  my  will.  My  flesh  cries 
out  for  him." 


200  THE  MAGICIAN 

Arthur  looked  away  in  embarrassment.  He  could 
not  help  a  slight,  instinctive  movement  of  with- 
drawal. 

"Do  I  disgust  you?'*  she  said. 

He  flushed  slightly,  but  scarcely  knew  how  to 
answer.  He  made  a  vague  gesture  of  denial. 

"If  you  only  knew,"  she  said. 

There  was  something  so  extraordinary  in  her  tone 
that  he  gave  her  a  quick  glance  of  surprise.  He 
saw  that  her  cheeks  were  flaming.  Her  bosom  was 
panting  as  though  she  were  again  on  the  point  of 
breaking  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

"For  God's  sake,  don't  look  at  me!"  she  cried. 

She  turned  away  and  hid  her  face.  The  words 
she  uttered  were  in  a  shamed  unnatural  voice. 

"If  you'd  been  at  Monte  Carlo  you'd  have  heard 
them  say,  God  knows  how  they  knew  it,  that  it  was 
only  through  me  he  had  his  luck  at  the  tables. 
He's  contented  himself  with  filling  my  soul  with 
vice.  And  yet  I  have  no  purity  in  me.  I'm  sullied 
through  and  through.  He  has  made  me  into  a  sink 
of  iniquity,  and  I  loathe  myself.  I  cannot  look  at 
myself  without  a  shudder  of  disgust." 

A  cold  sweat  came  over  Arthur,  and  he  grew  more 
pale  than  ever.  He  realised  now  he  was  in  the 
presence  of  a  mystery  that  he  could  not  unravel. 
She  went  on  feverishly. 

"The  other  night,  at  supper,  I  told  a  story,  and 
I  saw  you  wince  with  shame.  It  wasn't  I  that  told 
it.  The  impulse  came  from  him,  and  I  knew  it 
was  vile,  and  yet  I  told  it  with  gusto.  I  enjoyed  the 
telling  of  it;  I  enjoyed  the  pain  I  gave  you,  and  the 


THE  MAGICIAN  201 

dismay  of  those  women.  There  seem  to  be  two  per- 
sons in  me,  and  my  real  self,  the  old  one  that  you 
knew  and  loved,  is  growing  weaker  day  by  day,  and 
soon  she  will  be  dead  entirely.  And  there  will  remain 
only  the  wanton  soul  in  the  virgin  body." 

Arthur  tried  to  gather  his  wits  together.  He 
felt  it  an  occasion  on  which  it  was  essential  to  hold 
on  to  the  normal  view  of  things. 

"But  for  God's  sake  leave  him.  What  you've 
told  me  gives  you  every  ground  for  divorce.  It's 
all  monstrous.  The  man  must  be  so  mad  that  he 
ought  to  be  put  in  a  lunatic  asylum." 

"You  can  do  nothing  for  me,"  she  said. 

"But  if  he  doesn't  love  you  what  does  he  want 
you  for?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  I'm  beginning  to  suspect." 

She  looked  at  Arthur  steadily.  She  was  now 
quite  calm. 

"I  think  he  wishes  to  use  me  for  a  magical  opera- 
tion. I  don't  know  if  he's  mad  or  not.  But  I  think 
he  means  to  try  some  horrible  experiment,  and  I 
am  needful  for  its  success.  That  is  my  safeguard." 

"Your  safeguard?" 

"He  won't  kill  me  because  he  needs  me  for  that. 
Perhaps  in  the  process  I  shall  regain  my  freedom/' 

Arthur  was  shocked  at  the  callousness  with  which 
she  spoke.  He  went  up  to  her  and  put  his  hands 
on  her  shoulders. 

"Look  here,  you  must  pull  yourself  together, 
Margaret.  This  isn't  sane.  If  you  don't  take 
care  your  mind  will  give  way  altogether.  You 
must  come  with  me  now.  When  you're- out  of  his 


202  THE  MAGICIAN 

hands,  you'll  soon  regain  your  calmness  of  mind, 
You  need  never  see  him  again.  If  you're  afraid, 
you  shall  be  hidden  from  him,  and  lawyers  shall 
arrange  everything  between  you." 

"I  daren't." 

"But  I  promise  you  that  you  can  come  to  no 
harm.  Be  reasonable.  We're  in  London  now,  sur- 
rounded by  people  on  every  side.  How  do  you 
think  he  can  touch  you  while  we  drive  through  the 
crowded  streets?  I'll  take  you  straight  to  Susie. 
In  a  week  you'll  laugh  at  the  idle  fears  you  had." 

"How  do  you  know  that  he  is  not  in  the  room 
at  this  moment  listening  to  all  you  say?" 

The  question  was  so  sudden,  so  unexpected,  that 
Arthur  was  startled.  He  looked  round  quickly. 

"You  must  be  mad.  You  see  that  the  room  is 
empty." 

"I  tell  you  that  you  don't  know  what  powers  he 
has.  Have  you  ever  heard  those  old  legends  with 
which  nurses  used  to  frighten  our  childhood,  of 
men  who  could  turn  themselves  into  wolves,  and 
who  scoured  the  country  at  night?"  She  looked 
at  him  with  staring  eyes.  "Sometimes  when  he's 
come  in  at  Skene  in  the  morning,  with  blood-shot 
eyes,  exhausted  with  fatigue  and  strangely  discom- 
posed, I've  imagined  that  he  too  .  .  ."  She  stopped 
and  threw  back  her  head.  "You're  right,  Arthur, 
I  think  I  shall  go  mad." 

He  watched  her  helplessly.  He  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  Margaret  went  on,  her  voice  quivering 
with  anguish. 

"When  we  were  married  I  reminded  him  that 


THE  MAGICIAN  203 

he'd  promised  to  take  me  to  his  mother.  He  would 
never  speak  of  her,  but  I  felt  I  must  see  her.  And 
one  day,  suddenly,  he  told  me  to  get  ready  for  a 
journey,  and  we  went  a  long  way,  to  a  place  I  did 
not  know,  and  we  drove  into  the  country.  We 
seemed  to  go  miles  and  miles.  And  we  reached  at 
last  a  large  house,  surrounded  by  a  high  wall,  and 
the  windows  were  heavily  barred.  We  were  shown 
into  a  great  empty  room.  It  was  dismal  and  cold 
like  the  waiting-room  at  a  station.  A  man  came  in 
to  us,  a  tall  man,  in  a  frock-coat  and  gold  spectacles. 
He  was  introduced  to  me  as  Dr.  Taylor,  and  then, 
suddenly,  I  understood." 

Margaret  spoke  in  hurried  gasps,  and  her  eyes 
were  staring  wide,  as  though  she  saw  still  the  scene 
which  at  the  time  had  seemed  the  crowning  horror 
of  her  experience. 

"I  knew  it  was  an  asylum,  and  Oliver  hadn't 
told  me  a  word.  He  took  us  up  a  broad  flight  of 
stairs,  through  a  large  dormitory — oh,  if  you  only 
knew  what  I  saw  there!  I  was  so  horribly  fright- 
ened, I'd  never  been  in  such  a  place  before — to  a 
cell.  And  the  walls  and  the  floor  were  padded." 

Margaret  passed  her  hand  across  her  forehead  to 
chase  away  the  recollection  of  that  awful  sight. 

"Oh,  I  see  it  still.  I  can  never  get  it  out  of  my 
mind." 

She  remembered  with  a  morbid  vividness  the 
vast,  misshapen  mass  which  she  had  seen  heaped 
strangely  in  one  corner.  There  was  a  slight  move- 
ment in  it  as  they  entered,  and  she  perceived  that 
it  was  a  human  being.  It  was  a  woman,  dressed  in 


204  THE  MAGICIAN 

shapeless  brown  flannel;  a  woman  of  great  stature 
and  of  a  revolting,  excessive  corpulence.  She  turned 
upon  them  a  huge,  impassive  face;  and  its  unwrinkled 
smoothness  gave  it  an  appearance  of  aborted  childish- 
ness. The  hair  was  dishevelled,  grey,  and  scanty. 
But  what  most  terrified  Margaret  was  that  she  saw 
in  this  creature  an  appalling  likeness  to  Oliver. 

"He  told  me  it  was  his  mother,  and  she'd  been 
there  for  five-and-twenty  years." 

Arthur  could  hardly  bear  the  terror  that  was  in 
Margaret's  eyes.  He  did  not  know  what  to  say 
to  her.  In  a  little  while  she  began  to  speak  again, 
in  a  low  voice  and  rapidly,  as  though  to  herself, 
and  she  wrung  her  hands. 

"Oh,  you  don't  know  what  I've  endured!  He 
used  to  spend  long  periods  away  from  me,  and  I 
remained  alone  at  Skene  from  morning  till  night, 
alone  with  my  abject  fear.  Sometimes  it  seemed 
that  he  was  seized  with  a  devouring  lust  for  the 
gutter,  and  he  would  go  to  Liverpool  or  Manchester 
and  throw  himself  among  the  very  dregs  of  the 
people.  He  used  to  pass  long  days,  drinking  in  filthy 
pot-houses.  While  the  bout  lasted  nothing  was  too 
depraved  for  him.  He  loved  the  company  of  all  that 
was  criminal  and  low.  He  used  to  smoke  opium  in 
foetid  dens — oh,  you  have  no  conception  of  his  pas- 
sion to  degrade  himself — and  at  last  he  would  come 
back,  dirty,  with  torn  clothes,  begrimed,  sodden  still 
with  his  long  debauch;  and  his  mouth  was  hot  with 
the  kisses  of  the  vile  women  of  the  docks.  Oh,  he's 
so  cruel  when  the  fit  takes  him  that  I  think  he  has  a 
fiendish  pleasure  in  the  sight  of  suffering!" 


THE  MAGICIAN  205 

It  was  more  than  Arthur  could  stand.  His  mind 
was  made  up  to  try  a  bold  course.  He  saw  on  the 
table  a  whisky  bottle  and  glasses.  He  poured  some 
neat  spirit  into  a  tumbler  and  gave  it  to  Margaret. 

"Drink  this/' he  said. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Never  mind!     Drink  it  at  once." 

Obediently  she  put  it  to  her  lips.  He  stood  over 
her  as  she  emptied  the  glass.  A  sudden  glow  filled 
her. 

"Now  come  with  me." 

He  took  her  arm  and  led  her  down  the  stairs.  He 
passed  through  the  hall  quickly.  There  was  a  cab 
just  drawn  up  at  the  door,  and  he  told  her  to  get 
in.  One  or  two  persons  stared  at  seeing  a  woman 
come  out  of  that  hotel  in  a  tea-gown  and  without 
a  hat.  He  directed  the  driver  to  the  house  in  which 
Susie  lived  and  looked  round  at  Margaret.  She  had 
fainted  immediately  she  got  into  the  cab. 

When  they  arrived  he  carried  Margaret  upstairs 
and  laid  her  on  a  sofa.  He  told  Susie  what  had 
happened  and  what  he  wanted  of  her.  The  dear 
woman  forgot  everything  except  that  Margaret  was 
very  ill  and  promised  willingly  to  do  all  he  wished. 

.For  a  week  Margaret  could  not  be  moved.  Arthur 
hired  a  little  cottage  in  Hampshire,  opposite  the  Isle 
of  Wight,  hoping  that  amid  the  most  charming,  rest- 
ful scenery  in  England,  she  would  quickly  regain 
her  strength;  and  as  soon  as  it  was  possible  Susie 
took  her  down.  But  she  was  much  altered.  Her 
gaiety  had  disappeared  and  with  it  her  determina- 


206  THE  MAGICIAN 

tion.  Although  her  illness  had  been  neither  long  nor 
serious,  she  seemed  as  exhausted,  physically  and 
mentally,  as  if  she  had  been  for  months  at  the  point 
of  death.  She  took  no  interest  in  her  surroundings, 
and  was  indifferent  to  the  shady  lanes  through  which 
they  drove  and  to  the  gracious  trees  and  the  meadows. 
Her  old  passion  for  beauty  was  gone,  and  she  cared 
neither  for  the  flowers  which  filled  their  little  garden 
nor  for  the  birds  that  sang  continually.  But  at  last 
it  seemed  necessary  to  discuss  the  future.  Mar- 
garet acquiesced  in  all  that  was  suggested  to  her  and 
agreed  willingly  that  the  needful  steps  should  be 
taken  to  procure  her  release  from  Oliver  Haddo.  He 
made  apparently  no  effort  to  trace  her,  and  nothing 
had  been  heard  of  him.  He  did  not  know  where 
Margaret  was,  but  he  might  have  guessed  that  Arthur 
was  responsible  for  her  flight,  and  Arthur  was  easily 
to  be  found.  It  made  Susie  vaguely  uneasy  that 
there  was  no  sign  of  his  existence.  She  wished  that 
Arthur  were  not  kept  by  his  work  in  London. 

At  last  a  suit  for  divorce  was  instituted. 

Two  days  after  this,  when  Arthur  was  in  his  con- 
sulting room,  Haddo's  card  was  brought  to  him. 
Arthur's  jaw  set  more  firmly. 

"Show  the  gentleman  in,"  he  ordered. 

When  Haddo  entered,  Arthur,  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  fireplace,  motioned  him  to  sit  down. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  he  asked  coldly. 

"I  have  not  come  to  avail  myself  of  your  surgical 
skill,  my  dear  Burdon,"  smiled  Haddo,  as  he  fell 
ponderously  into  an  armchair. 

"So  I  imagined." 


THE  MAGICIAN  207 

"Your  perspicacity  amazes  me.  I  surmise  that 
it  is  to  you  I  owe  this  amusing  citation  which  was 
served  on  me  yesterday." 

"I  allowed  you  to  come  in  so  that  I  might  tell  you 
I  will  have  no  communication  with  you  except 
through  my  solicitors." 

"My  dear  fellow,  why  do  you  treat  me  with  such 
discourtesy?  It  is  true  that  you  have  deprived  me 
of  the  wife  of  my  bosom,  but  you  might  at  least 
so  far  respect  my  marital  rights  as  to  use  me  civilly." 

"My  patience  is  not  so  good  as  it  was,"  answered 
Arthur.  "I  venture  to  remind  you  that  once  be- 
fore I  lost  my  temper  with  you,  and  the  result  you 
must  have  found  unpleasant." 

"I  should  have  thought  you  regretted  that  in- 
cident by  now,  O  Burdon,"  answered  Haddo,  en- 
tirely unabashed. 

"  My  time  is  very  short,5'  said  Arthur. 

"Then  I  will  get  to  my  business  without  delay. 
I  thought  it  might  interest  you  to  know  that  I  pro- 
pose to  bring  a  counter  petition  against  my  wife, 
and  I  shall  make  you  co-respondent." 

"You  infamous  blackguard!"  cried  Arthur  furi- 
ously. "You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  your  wife 
is  above  suspicion." 

"I  know  that  she  left  my  hotel  in  your  company 
and  has  been  living  since  under  your  protection." 

Arthur  grew  livid  with  rage.  He  could  hardly 
restrain  himself  from  knocking  the  man  down.  He 
gave  a  short  laugh. 

"You  can  do  what  you  like.  I'm  really  not 
frightened." 


208  THE  MAGICIAN 

"The  innocent  are  so  very  incautious.  I  assure 
you  that  I  can  make  a  good  enough  story  to  ruin 
your  career  and  force  you  to  resign  your  appoint- 
ments at  the  various  hospitals  you  honour  with 
your  attention/5 

"You  forget  that  the  case  will  not  be  tried  in  open 
court/5  said  Arthur. 

Haddo  looked  at  him  steadily.  He  did  not  answer 
for  a  moment. 

"You're  quite  right/'  he  said  at  last,  with  a  little 
smile.  "I  had  forgotten  that/' 

"Then  I  need  not  detain  you  longer." 

Oliver  Haddo  got  up.  He  passed  his  hand  re- 
flectively over  his  huge  face.  Arthur  watched  him 
with  scornful  eyes.  He  touched  a  bell,  and  the  serv- 
ant at  once  appeared. 

"Show  this  gentleman  out/' 

Not  in  the  least  disconcerted,  Haddo  strolled 
calmly  to  the  door. 

Arthur  gave  a  sigh  of  relief,  for  he  concluded  that 
Haddo  would  not  show  fight.  His  solicitor  indeed 
had  already  assured  him  that  Oliver  would  not  ven- 
ture to  defend  the  case. 

Margaret  seemed  gradually  to  take  more  interest 
in  the  proceedings,  and  she  was  full  of  eagerness  to 
be  set  free.  She  did  not  shrink  from  the  unpleasant 
ordeal  of  a  trial.  She  could  talk  of  Haddo  with 
composure.  Her  friends  were  able  to  persuade  them- 
selves that  in  a  little  while  she  would  be  her  old  self 
again,  for  she  was  growing  stronger  and  more  cheer- 
ful; her  charming  laughter  rang  through  the  little 
house  as  it  had  been  used  to  do  in  the  Paris  studio. 


THE  MAGICIAN  209 

The  case  was  to  come  on  at  the  end  of  July,  before 
the  long  vacation,  and  Susie  had  agreed  to  take 
Margaret  abroad  as  soon  as  it  was  done. 

But  presently  a  change  came  over  her.  As  the 
day  of  the  trial  drew  nearer,  Margaret  became  ex- 
cited and  disturbed;  her  gaiety  deserted  her,  and 
she  fell  into  long,  moody  silences.  To  some  extent 
this  was  comprehensible,  for  she  would  have  to  dis- 
close to  callous  ears  the  most  intimate  details  of  her 
married  life;  but  at  last  her  nervousness  grew  so 
marked  that  Susie  could  no  longer  ascribe  it  to 
natural  causes.  She  thought  it  necessary  to  write 
to  Arthur  about  it. 

"My  Dear  Arthur: 

"I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  Margaret,  and  I 
wish  you  would  come  down  and  see  her.  The  good 
humour  which  I  have  noticed  in  her  of  late  has  given 
way  to  a  curious  irritability.  She  is  so  restless  that 
she  cannot  keep  still  for  a  moment.  Even  when  she 
is  sitting  down  her  body  moves  in  a  manner  that  is 
almost  convulsive.  I  am  beginning  to  think  that 
the  strain  from  which  she  suffered  is  bringing  on 
some  nervous  disease,  and  I  am  really  alarmed.  She 
walks  about  the  house  in  a  peculiarly  aimless  man- 
ner, up  and  down  the  stairs,  in  and  out  of  the  garden. 
She  has  grown  suddenly  much  more  silent,  and  the 
look  has  come  back  to  her  eyes  which  they  had  when 
first  we  brought  her  down  here.  When  I  beg  her  to 
tell  me  what  is  troubling  her,  she  says:  'I'm  afraid 
that  something  is  going  to  happen/  She  will  not  or 
cannot  explain  what  she  means.  The  last  few  weeks 


£10  THE  MAGICIAN 

have  set  my  own  nerves  on  edge,  so  that  I  do  not 
know  how  much  of  what  I  observe  is  real,  and  how 
much  is  due  to  my  fancy;  but  I  wish  you  would 
come  and  put  a  little  courage  into  me.  The  oddness 
of  it  all  is  making  me  uneasy,  and  I  am  seized  with 
preposterous  terrors.  I  don't  know  what  there  is  in 
Haddo  that  inspires  me  with  this  unaccountable 
dread.  He  is  always  present  to  my  thoughts.  I 
seem  to  see  his  dreadful  eyes  and  his  cold,  sensual 
smile.  I  wake  up  at  night,  my  heart  beating  furi- 
ously, with  the  consciousness  that  something  quite 
awful  has  happened. 

"Oh,  I  wish  the  trial  were  over,  and  that  we  were 
happy  in  Germany. 

"Yours  ever    «SUSAN  BoYD/, 

Susie  took  a  certain  pride  in  her  common-sense, 
and  it  was  humiliating  to  find  that  her  nerves  could 
be  so  distraught.  She  was  worried  and  unhappy. 
It  had  not  been  easy  to  take  Margaret  back  to  her 
bosom  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Susie  was  hu- 
man; and,  though  she  did  ten  times  more  than 
could  be  expected  of  her,  she  could  not  resist  a  feeling 
of  irritation  that  Arthur  sacrificed  her  so  calmly. 
He  had  no  room  for  other  thoughts,  and  it  seemed 
quite  natural  to  him  that  she  should  devote  herself 
entirely  to  Margaret's  welfare. 

Susie  walked  some  way  along  the  road  to  post 
this  letter  and  then  went  to  her  room.  It  was  a 
wonderful  night,  starry  and  calm,  and  the  silence 
was  like  balm  to  her  troubles.  She  sat  at  the  win- 
dow for  a  long  time,  and  at  last,  feeling  more  tran- 


THE  MAGICIAN 

quil,  went  to  bed.  She  slept  more  soundly  than 
she  had  done  for  many  days.  When  she  awoke  the 
sun  was  streaming  into  her  room,  and  she  gave  a 
deep  sigh  of  delight.  She  could  see  trees  from  her 
bed  and  blue  sky.  All  her  troubles  seemed  easy  to 
bear  when  the  world  was  so  beautiful,  and  she  was 
ready  to  laugh  at  the  fears  that  had  so  affected  her. 
She  got  up,  put  on  a  dressing-gown,  and  went  to 
Margaret's  room.  It  was  empty.  The  bed  had  not 
been  slept  in.  On  the  pillow  was  a  note. 

"It's  no  good;  I  can't  help  myself.  I've  gone 
back  to  him.  Don't  trouble  about  me  any  more. 
It's  quite  hopeless  and  useless.  "M." 

Susie  gave  a  little  gasp.  Her  first  thought  was 
for  Arthur,  and  she  uttered  a  wail  of  sorrow  be- 
cause he  must  be  cast  again  into  the  agony  of  deso- 
lation. Once  more  she  had  to  break  the  dreadful 
news.  She  dressed  hurriedly  and  ate  some  break- 
fast. There  was  no  train  till  nearly  eleven,  and  she 
had  to  bear  her  impatience  as  best  she  could.  At 
last  it  was  time  to  start,  and  she  put  on  her  gloves. 
At  that  moment  the  door  was  opened,  and  Arthur 
came  in. 

She  gave  a  cry  of  terror  and  turned  pale. 

"I  was  just  coming  to  London  to  see  you,"  she 
faltered.  "How  did  you  find  out?" 

"Haddo  sent  me  a  box  of  chocolates  early  this 
morning  with  a  card  on  which  was  written:  /  think 
the  odd  trick  is  mine'9 

This  cruel  vindictiveness,  joined  with  a  school- 
boy love  of  taunting  the  vanquished  foe,  was  very 


THE  MAGICIAN 

characteristic.  Susie  ga^e  Arthur  Burden  the  note 
which  she  had  found  in  Margaret's  room.  He  read 
it  and  then  thought  for  a  long  time. 

"I'm  afraid  she's  right,"  he  said  at  length.  "It 
seems  quite  hopeless.  The  man  has  some  power 
over  her  which  we  can't  counteract." 

Susie  wondered  whether  his  strong  scepticism  was 
failing  at  last.  She  could  not  withstand  her  own 
feeling  that  there  was  something  preternatural 
about  the  hold  that  Oliver  had  over  Margaret.  She 
had  no  shadow  of  a  doubt  that  he  was  able  to  affect 
his  wife  even  at  a  distance  and  was  convinced  now 
that  the  restlessness  of  the  last  few  days  was  due  to 
this  mysterious  power.  He  had  been  at  work  in 
some  strange  way,  and  Margaret  had  been  aware  of 
it.  At  length  she  could  not  resist  and  had  gone  to 
him  instinctively:  her  will  was  as  little  concerned 
as  when  a  chip  of  steel  flies  to  a  magnet. 

"I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  now  to  blame  her 
for  anything  she  has  done,"  said  Susie.  "I  think 
she  is  the  victim  of  a  most  lamentable  fate.  I  can't 
help  it.  I  must  believe  that  he  was  able  to  cast 
a  spell  on  her;  and  to  that  is  due  all  that  has  hap- 
pened. I  have  only  pity  for  her  great  misfortunes." 

"Has  it  occurred  to  you  what  will  happen  wrhen 
she  is  back  in  Haddo's  hands?"  cried  Arthur. 
"You  know  as  well  as  I  do  how  revengeful  he  is 
and  how  hatefully  cruel.  My  heart  bleeds  when  I 
think  of  the  tortures,  sheer  physical  tortures,  which 
she  may  suffer." 

He  walked  up  and  down  in  desperation. 

"And  yet  there's  nothing  whatever  that  one  can 


THE  MAGICIAN  213 

do.  One  can't  go  to  the  police  and  say  that  a  man 
has  cast  a  magic  spell  on  his  wife." 

"Then  you  believe  it  too?"  said  Susie. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  believe  now,"  he  cried. 
"After  all,  we  can't  do  anything  if  she  chooses  to 
go  back  to  her  husband.  She's  apparently  her  own 
mistress."  He  wrung  his  hands.  "And  I'm  im- 
prisoned in  London!  I  can't  leave  it  for  a  day.  I 
ought  not  to  be  here  now,  and  I  must  get  back  in  a 
couple  of  hours.  I  can  do  nothing,  and  yet  I'm 
convinced  that  Margaret  is  utterly  wretched." 

Susie  paused  for  a  minute  or  two.  She  wondered 
how  he  would  accept  the  suggestion  that  was  in  her 
mind. 

"Do  you  know,  it  seems  to  me  that  common 
methods  are  useless.  The  only  chance  is  to  fight 
him  with  his  own  weapons.  Would  you  mind  if 
I  went  over  to  Paris  to  consult  Dr.  Porhoet?  You 
know  that  he  is  learned  in  every  branch  of  the  oc- 
cult, and  perhaps  he  might  help  us." 

But  Arthur  pulled  himself  together. 

"It's  absurd.  We  mustn't  give  way  to  supersti- 
tion. Haddo  is  merely  a  scoundrel  and  a  charlatan. 
He's  worked  on  our  nerves  as  he's  worked  on  poor 
Margaret's.  It's  impossible  to  suppose  that  he  has 
any  powers  greater  than  the  common  run  of  man- 
kind." 

"Even  after  all  you've  seen  with  your  own  eyes?" 

"If  my  eyes  show  me  what  all  my  training  assures 
me  is  impossible,  I  can  only  conclude  that  my  eyes 
deceive  me." 

"Well,  I  shall  run  over  to  Paris." 


Chapter  XIII 

SOME  weeks  later  Dr.  Porhoet  was  sitting  among 
his  books  in  the  quiet,  low  room  that  overlooked 
the  Seine.  He  had  given  himself  over  to  a  pleasing 
melancholy.  The  heat  beat  down  upon  the  noisy 
streets  of  Paris,  and  the  din  of  the  great  city  pene^ 
trated  even  to  his  fastness  in  the  He  Saint  Louis. 
He  remembered  the  cloud-laden  sky  of  the  country 
where  he  was  born,  and  the  southwest  wind  that 
blew  with  a  salt  freshness.  The  long  streets  of 
Brest,  present  to  his  fancy  always  in  a  drizzle  of 
rain,  with  the  lights  of  cafes  reflected  on  the  wet 
pavements,  had  a  familiar  charm.  Even  in  foul 
weather  the  sailor-men  who  trudged  along  them 
gave  one  a  curious  sense  of  comfort.  There  was 
delight  in  the  smell  of  the  sea  and  in  the  freedom 
of  the  great  Atlantic.  And  then  he  thought  of  the 
green  lanes  and  of  the  waste  places  with  their 
scented  heather,  the  fair  broad  roads  that  led  from 
onevold  sweet  town  to  another,  of  the  Pardons  and 
their  gentle,  sad  crowds.  Dr.  Porhoet  gave  a  sigh. 

"It  is  good  to  be  born  in  the  land  of  Brittany/' 
he  smiled. 

But  his  bonne  showed  Susie  in,  and  he  rose  with 
a  smile  to  greet  her.  She  had  been  in  Paris  for 
some  time,  and  they  had  seen  much  of  one  another. 
He  basked  in  the  gentle  sympathy  with  which  she 

214 


THE  MAGICIAN  215 

interested  herself  in  all  the  abstruse,  quaint  things 
on  which  he  spent  his  time;  and,  divining  her  love 
for  Arthur,  he  admired  the  courage  with  which 
she  effaced  herself.  They  had  got  into  the  habit  of 
eating  many  of  their  meals  together  in  a  quiet 
house  opposite  the  Cluny  called  La  Reine  Blanche, 
and  here  they  had  talked  of  so  many  things  that 
their  acquaintance  was  grown  into  a  charming 
friendship. 

"I'm  ashamed  to  come  here  so  often/'  said  Susie, 
as  she  entered.  "Matilde  is  beginning  to  look  at  me 
with  a  suspicious  eye." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  entertain  a  tiresome 
old  man/'  he  smiled,  as  he  held  her  hand.  "But  I 
should  have  been  disappointed  if  you  had  forgotten 
your  promise  to  come  this  afternoon,  for  I  have 
much  to  tell  you." 

"Tell  me  at  once,"  she  said,  sitting  down. 

"I  have  discovered  an  MS.  at  the  library  of  the 
Arsenal  this  morning  that  no  one  knew  anything 
about." 

He  said  this  with  an  air  of  triumph,  as  though 
the  achievement  were  of  national  importance.  Susie 
had  a  tenderness  for  his  innocent  mania;  and, 
though  she  knew  the  work  in  question  was  occult 
and  incomprehensible,  congratulated  him  heartily. 

"It  is  the  original  version  of  a  book  by  Paracelsus. 
I  have  not  read  it  yet,  for  the  writing  is  most  difficult 
to  decipher,  but  one  point  caught  my  eye  in  turning 
over  the  pages.  That  is  the  gruesome  fact  that 
Paracelsus  fed  the  homunculi  he  manufactured  on 
human  blood.  One  wonders  how  he  came  by  it." 


216  THE  MAGICIAN 

Susie    gave    a    little    start,    which    Dr.    Porhoet 
noticed. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?" 

"Nothing,"  she  said  quickly. 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  then  proceeded 
with  the  subject  that  strangely  fascinated  him. 

"  You  must  let  me  take  you  one  day  to  the  library 
of  the  Arsenal.  There  is  no  richer  collection  in  the 
world  of  books  dealing  with  the  occult  sciences. 
And  of  course,  you  know  that  it  was  at  the  Arsenal 
that  the  tribunal  sat,  under  the  suggestive  name  of 
chambre  ardente,  to  deal  with  cases  of  sorcery  and 
magic?" 

"I  didn't,"  smiled  Susie. 

"I  always  think  that  these  manuscripts  and  queer 
old  books,  which  are  the  pride  of  our  library,  served 
in  many  an  old  trial.  There  are  volumes  there  of 
innocent  appearance  which  have  hanged  wretched 
men  and  sent  others  to  the  stake.  You  would  not 
believe  how  many  persons  of  fortune,  rank,  and 
intelligence,  during  the  great  reign  of  Louis  XIV., 
immersed  themselves  in  these  satariic  undertakings." 

Susie  did  not  answer.  She  could  not  now  deal 
with  these  matters  in  an  indifferent  spirit.  Every- 
thing she  heard  might  have  some  bearing  on  the 
circumstances  which  she  had  discussed  with  Dr. 
Porhoet  times  out  of  number.  She  had  never  been 
able  to  pin  him  down  to  an  affirmation  of  faith. 
Certain  strange  things  had  manifestly  happened, 
but  what  the  explanation  of  them  was  no  man  could 
say.  He  offered  analogies  from  his  well-stored 
memory.  He  gave  her  books  to  read  till  she  was 


THE  MAGICIAN  217 

saturated  with  occult  science.  At  one  moment  she 
was  inclined  to  throw  them  all  aside  impatiently, 
and  at  another  was  ready  to  believe  that  everything 
was  possible. 

Dr.  Porhoet  stood  up  and  stretched  out  a  medi- 
tative finger.  He  spoke  in  that  agreeably  academic 
manner  which,  at  the  beginning  of  their  acquaint- 
ance, had  always  entertained  Susie,  because  it  con- 
trasted so  absurdly  with  his  fantastic  utterances. 

"It  was  a  strange  dream  that  these  wizards  cher- 
ished. They  sought  to  make  themselves  beloved 
of  those  they  cared  for  and  to  revenge  themselves 
on  those  they  hated;  but  above  all  they  sought  to 
become  greater  than  the  common  run  of  men  and  to 
wield  the  power  of  the  gods.  They  hesitated  at 
nothing  to  gain  their  ends.  But  Nature  with  diffi- 
culty allows  her  secrets  to  be  wrested  from  her. 
In  vain  they  lit  their  furnaces,  and  in  vain  they 
studied  their  crabbed  books,  called  up  the  dead,  and 
conjured  ghastly  spirits.  Their  reward  was  disap- 
pointment, and  wretchedness,  poverty,  the  scorn  ot 
men,  torture,  imprisonment,  and  shameful  death. 
And  yet,  perhaps,  after  all  there  may  be  some 
particle  of  truth  hidden  away  in  these  dark 
places." 

"You  never  go  further  than  the  cautious  per- 
haps," said  Susie.  "You  never  give  me  any  definite 
opinion." 

"In  these  matters  it  is  discreet  to  have  no  definite 
opinion,"  he  smiled,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 
"If  a  wise  man  studies  the  science  of  the  occult, 
his  duty  is  not  to  laugh  at  everything,  but  to  seek 


218  \THE  MAGICIAN 

patiently,  slowly,  perseveringly,  the  truth  that  may 
be  concealed  in  the  night  of  these  illusions." 

The  words  were  hardly  spoken  when  Matilde,  the 
ancient  bonne,  opened  the  door  to  let  a  visitor  come 
in.  It  was  Arthur  Burdon.  Susie  gave  a  cry  of 
surprise,  for  she  had  received  a  brief  note  from 
him  two  days  before,  and  he  had  said  nothing  of 
crossing  the  Channel. 

"I'm  glad  to  find  you  both  here,"  said  Arthur, 
as  he  shook  hands  with  them. 

"Has  anything  happened?"  cried  Susie. 

His  manner  was  curiously  distressing,  and  there 
was  a  nervousness  about  his  movements  that  was 
very  unexpected  in  so  restrained  a  person. 

"I've  seen  Margaret  again,"  he  said. 

"Well?" 

He  seemed  unable  to  go  on,  and  yet  both  knew 
that  he  had  something  important  to  tell  them.  He 
looked  at  them  vacantly,  as  though  all  he  had  to 
say  was  suddenly  gone  out  of  his  mind. 

"I've  come  straight  here,"  he  said,  in  a  dull,  be- 
wildered fashion.  "I  went  to  your  hotel,  Susie, 
in  the  hope  of  finding  you;  but  when  they  told  me 
you  were  out  I  felt  certain  you  would  be  here." 

"You  seem  worn  out,  cher  ami,"  said  Dr.  Por- 
hoet,  looking  at  him.  "Will  you  let  Matilde  make 
you  a  cup  of  coffee?" 

"I  should  like  something,"  he  answered,  with  a 
look  of  utter  weariness. 

"Sit  still  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  you  shall 
tell  us  what  you  want  to  when  you  are  a  little 
rested." 


THE  MAGICIAN  219 

Dr.  Porhoet  had  not  seen  Arthur  since  that  after- 
noon in  the  previous  year  when,  in  answer  to  Haddo's 
telegram,  he  had  gone  to  the  studio  in  the  Rue  Cam- 
pagne  Premiere.  He  watched  him  anxiously  while 
Arthur  drank  his  coffee.  The  change  in  him  was 
extraordinary;  there  was  a  cadaverous  exhaustion 
about  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were  sunken  in  their 
sockets.  But  what  alarmed  the  good  doctor  most 
was  that  Arthur's  personality  seemed  thoroughly 
thrown  out  of  gear.  All  that  he  had  endured  during 
these  nine  months  had  robbed  him  of  the  strength 
of  purpose,  the  matter-of-fact  sureness,  which  had 
distinguished  him.  He  was  now  unbalanced  and 
neurotic. 

Arthur  did  not  speak.  With  his  eyes  fixed  moodily 
on  the  ground,  he  wondered  how  much  he  could  bring 
himself  to  tell  them.  It  revolted  him  to  disclose  his 
inmost  thoughts,  yet  he  was  come  to  the  end  of  his 
tether  and  needed  the  doctor's  advice.  He  found 
himself  obliged  to  deal  with  circumstances  that 
might  have  existed  in  a  world  of  nightmare,  and  he 
was  driven  at  last  to  take  advantage  of  his  friend's 
peculiar  knowledge. 

Returning  to  London  after  Margaret's  flight, 
Arthur  Burdon  had  thrown  himself  again  into  the 
work  which  for  so  long  had  been  his  only  solace. 
It  had  lost  its  savour;  but  he  would  not  take  this 
into  account,  and  he  slaved  away  mechanically,  by 
perpetual  toil  seeking  to  deaden  his  anguish.  But 
as  the  time  passed  he  was  seized  on  a  sudden  with 
a  curious  feeling  of  foreboding,  which  he  could  in 
no  way  resist;  it  grew  in  strength  till  it  had  all 


220  THE  MAGICIAN 

the  power  of  an  obsession,  and  he  could  not  reason 
himself  out  of  it.  He  was  sure  that  a  great  danger 
threatened  Margaret.  He  could  not  tell  what  it 
was,  nor  why  the  fear  of  it  was  so  persistent,  but 
the  idea  was  there  always,  night  and  day;  it  haunted 
him  like  a  shadow  and  followed  him  like  remorse. 
His  anxiety  increased  continually,  and  the  vague- 
ness of  his  terror  made  it  more  tormenting.  He 
felt  quite  certain  that  Margaret  was  in  imminent 
peril,  but  he  did  not  know  how  to  help  her.  Ar- 
thur supposed  that  Haddo  had  taken  her  back  to 
Skene;  but,  even  if  he  went  there,  he  had  no  chance 
of  seeing  her.  What  made  it  more  difficult  still 
was  that  his  chief  at  St.  Luke's  was  away,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  be  in  London  in  case  he  should  be 
suddenly  called  upon  to  do  some  operation.  But 
he  could  think  of  nothing  else.  He  felt  it  urgently 
needful  to  se  j  Margaret.  Night  after  night  he 
dreamed  that  she  was  at  the  point  of  death,  and 
heavy  fetters  prevented  him  from  stretching  out 
a  hand  to  help  her.  At  last  he  could  stand  it  no 
more.  He  told  a  brother  surgeon  that  private  busi- 
ness forced  him  to  leave  London,  and  put  the  work 
into  his  hands.  With  no  plan  in  his  head,  merely 
urged  by  an  obscure  impulse,  he  set  out  for  the 
village  of  Yenning,  which  was  about  three  miles 
from  Skene. 

It  was  a  tiny  place,  with  one  public-house  serving 
as  a  hotel  to  the  rare  travellers  who  found  it  needful 
to  stop  there,  and  Arthur  felt  that  some  explanation 
of  his  presence  was  necessary.  Having  seen  at  the 
station  an  advertisement  of  a  large  farm  to  let,  he 


THE  MAGICIAN 

told  the  inquisitive  landlady  that  he  had  come  to 
see  it.  He  arrived  late  at  night.  Nothing  could 
be  done  then,  so  he  occupied  the  time  by  trying  to 
find  out  something  about  the  Haddos. 

Oliver  was  the  local  magnate,  and  his  wealth 
would  have  made  him  an  easy  topic  of  conversation 
even  without  his  eccentricity.  The  landlady  roundly 
called  him  insane,  and  as  an  instance  of  his  queerness 
told  Arthur,  to  his  great  dismay,  that  Haddo  would 
have  no  servants  to  sleep  in  the  house:  after  dinner 
everyone  was  sent  away  to  the  various  cottages  in 
the  park,  and  he  remained  alone  with  his  wife.  It 
was  an  awful  thought  that  Margaret  might  be  in 
the  hands  of  a  raving  madman,  with  not  a  soul  to 
protect  her.  But  if  he  learnt  no  more  than  this  of 
solid  fact,  Arthur  heard  much  that  was  significant. 
To  his  amazement  the  old  fear  of  the  wizard  had 
grown  up  again  in  that  lonely  place,  and  the  gar- 
rulous woman  gravely  told  him  of  Haddo's  evil 
influence  on  the  crops  and  cattle  of  farmers  who 
had  aroused  his  anger.  He  had  had  an  altercation 
with  his  bailiff,  'and  the  man  had  died  within  a 
year.  A  small  freeholder  in  the  neighborhood  had 
refused  to  sell  the  land  which  would  have  rounded 
off  the  estate  of  Skene,  and  a  disease  had  attacked 
every  animal  on  his  farm  so  that  he  was  ruined. 
Arthur  was  impressed  because,  though  she  reported 
these  rumours  with  mock  scepticism  as  the  stories 
of  ignorant  yokels  and  old  women,  the  innkeeper 
had  evidently  a  terrified  belief  in  their  truth.  No 
one  could  deny  that  Haddo  had  got  possession  of 
the  land  he  wanted;  for,  when  it  was  put  up  to 


THE  MAGICIAN 

auction,  no  one  would  bid  against  him,  and  he 
bought  it  for  a  song. 

As  soon  as  he  could  do  so  naturally  Arthur  asked 
after  Margaret.  The  woman  shrugged  her  shoul- 
ders. No  one  knew  anything  about  her.  She  never 
came  out  of  the  park  gates,  but  sometimes  you 
could  see  her  wandering  about  inside  by  herself. 
She  saw  no  one.  Haddo  had  long  since  quarrelled 
with  the  surrounding  gentry;  and  though  one  old 
lady,  the  mother  of  a  neighbouring  landowner,  had 
called  when  Margaret  first  came,  she  had  not  been 
admitted,  and  the  visit  was  never  returned. 

"She'll  come  to  no  good,  poor  lady,"  said  the 
hostess  of  the  inn.  "And  they  do  say  she's  a  perfect 
picture  to  look  at." 

Arthur  went  to  his  room.  He  longed  for  the  day 
to  come.  There  was  no  certain  means  of  seeing 
Margaret.  It  was  useless  to  go  to  the  park  gates, 
since  even  the  tradesmen  were  obliged  to  leave  their 
goods  at  the  lodge;  but  it  appeared  that  she  walked 
alone,  morning  and  afternoon,  and  it  might  be 
possible  to  see  her  then.  He  decided  to  climb  into 
the  park  and  wait  till  he  came  upon  her  in  some 
spot  where  they  were  not  likely  to  be  observed. 

Next  day  the  great  heat  of  the  last  week  was 
gone,  and  the  melancholy  sky  was  dark  with  lower- 
ing clouds.  Arthur  inquired  for  the  road  which  led 
to  Skene,  and  set  out  to  walk  the  three  miles  which 
separated  him  from  it.  The  country  was  grey  and 
barren.  There  was  a  broad  waste  of  heath,  with 
gigantic  boulders  strewn  as  though  in  prehistoric 
times  Titans  had  waged  there  a  mighty  battle.  Here 


THE  MAGICIAN 

and  there  were  trees,  but  they  seemed  hardly  to 
withstand  the  fierce  winds  of  winter;  they  were  old 
and  bowed  before  the  storm.  One  of  them  attracted 
his  attention.  It  had  been  struck  by  lightning  and 
was  riven  asunder,  leafless;  but  the  maimed  branches 
were  curiously  set  on  the  trunk  so  that  they  gave  it 
the  appearance  of  a  human  being  writhing  in  the 
torture  of  infernal  agony.  The  wind  whistled 
strangely.  Arthur's  heart  sank  as  he  walked  on. 
He  had  never  seen  a  country  so  desolate. 

He  came  to  the  park  gates  at  last  and  stood  for 
some  time  in  front  of  them.  At  the  end  of  a  long 
avenue,  among  the  trees,  he  could  see  part  of  a 
splendid  house.  He  walked  along  the  wooden  pali- 
sade that  surrounded  the  park.  Suddenly  he  came 
to  a  spot  where  a  board  had  been  broken  down. 
He  looked  up  and  down  the  road.  No  one  was  in 
sight.  He  climbed  up  the  low,  steep  bank,  wrenched 
down  a  piece  more  of  the  fence,  and  slipped  in. 

He  found  himself  in  a  dense  wood.  There  was 
no  sign  of  a  path,  and  he  advanced  cautiously.  The 
bracken  was  so  thick  and  high  that  it  easily  con- 
cealed him.  Dead  owners  had  plainly  spent  much 
care  upon  the  place,  for  here  alone  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood were  trees  in  abundance;  but  of  late  it 
had  been  utterly  neglected.  It  had  run  so  wild  that 
there  were  no  traces  now  of  its  early  formal  ar- 
rangement; and  it  was  so  hard  to  make  one's  way, 
the  vegetation  was  so  thick,  that  it  might  almost 
have  been  some  remnant  of  primeval  forest.  But 
at  last  he  came  to  a  grassy  path  and  walked  along 
it  slowly.  He  stopped  on  a  sudden,  for  he  heard  a 


224  THE  MAGICIAN 

sound.  But  it  was  only  a  pheasant  that  flew  heavily 
through  the  low  trees.  He  wondered  what  he 
should  do  if  he  came  face  to  face  with  Oliver.  The 
innkeeper  had  assured  him  that  the  squire  seldom 
came  out,  but  spent  his  days  locked  in  the  great  at- 
tics at  the  top  of  the  house.  Smoke  came  from  the 
chimneys  of  them,  even  in  hottest  days  of  summer, 
and  weird  tales  were  told  of  the  devilries  there 
committed. 

Arthur  went  on,  hoping  in  the  end  to  catch  sight 
of  Margaret,  but  he  saw  no  one.  In  that  grey,  chilly 
day  the  woods,  notwithstanding  their  greenery,  were 
desolate  and  sad.  A  sombre  mystery  seemed  to 
hang  over  them.  At  last  he  came  to  a  stone  bench 
at  a  cross-way  among  the  trees,  and,  since  it  was  the 
only  resting-place  he  had  seen,  it  struck  him  that 
Margaret  might  come  there  to  sit  down.  He  hid 
himself  in  the  bracken.  He  had  forgotten  his  watch 
and  did  not  know  how  the  time  passed;  he  seemed 
to  be  there  for  hours. 

But  at  length  his  heart  gave  a  great  beat  against 
his  ribs,  for  all  at  once,  so  silently  that  he  had  not 
heard  her  approach,  Margaret  came  into  view.  She 
sat  on  the  stone  bench.  For  a  moment  he  dared  not 
move  in  case  the  sound  frightened  her.  He  could 
not  tell  how  to  make  his  presence  known.  But  it  was 
necessary  to  do  something  to  attract  her  attention, 
and  he  could  only  hope  that  she  would  not  cry  out. 

"Margaret,"  he  called  softly. 

She  did  not  move,  and  he  repeated  her  name  more 
loudly.  But  still  she  made  no  sign  that  she  had 
heard.  He  came  forward  and  stood  in  front  of  her. 


THE  MAGICIAN  225 

"Margaret." 

She  looked  at  him  quietly.  He  might  have  been 
someone  she  had  never  set  eyes  on,  and  yet  from 
her  composure  she  might  have  expected  him  to  be 
standing  there. 

"Margaret,  don't  you  know  me?" 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  answered  placidly. 

He  was  so  taken  aback  that  he  did  not  know  what 
to  say.  She  kept  gazing  at  him  steadfastly.  On  a 
sudden  her  calmness  vanished,  and  she  sprang  to  her 
feet. 

"Is  it  you  really?5'  she  cried,  terribly  agitated. 
"I  thought  it  was  only  a  shape  that  mimicked 
you." 

"Margaret,  what  do  you  mean?  What  has  come 
over  you?" 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  and  touched  him. 

"I'm  flesh  and  blood  all  right,"  he  said,  trying 
to  smile. 

She  shut  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  as  though  in  an 
effort  to  collect  herself. 

"I've  had  hallucinations  lately,"  she  muttered. 
"I  thought  it  was  some  trick  played  upon  me." 

Suddenly  she  shook  herself. 

"But  what  are  you  doing  here?  You  must  go. 
How  did  you  come?  Oh,  why  won't  you  leave  me 
alone?" 

"I've  been  haunted  by  a  feeling  that  something 
horrible  was  going  to  happen  to  you.  I  was  obliged 
to  come." 

"For  God's  sake,  go.  You  can  do  me  no  good. 
If  he  finds  out  you've  been  here " 


226  THE  MAGICIAN 

She  stopped,  and  her  eyes  were  dilated  with  ter- 
ror. Arthur  seized  her  hands. 

"Margaret,  I  can't  go — I  can't  leave  you  like  this. 
For  Heaven's  sake,  tell  me  what  is  the  matter.  I'm 
so  dreadfully  frightened." 

He  was  aghast  at  the  difference  wrought  in  her 
during  the  two  months  since  he  had  seen  her  last. 
Her  colour  was  all  gone,  and  her  face  had  the  grey- 
ness  of  the  dead.  There  were  strange  lines  on  her 
forehead,  and  her  eyes  had  an  unnatural  glitter. 
Her  youth  had  suddenly  left  her.  She  looked  as  if 
she  were  struck  down  by  mortal  illness. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  he  asked. 

"Nothing."  She  looked  about  her  anxiously. 
"Oh,  why  don't  you  go?  How  can  you  be  so  cruel?" 

"I  must  do  something  for  you,"  he  insisted. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"It's  too  late.  Nothing  can  help  me  now."  She 
paused;  and  when  she  spoke  again  it  was  with  a 
voice  so  ghastly  that  it  might  have  come  from  the 
lips  of  a  corpse.  "I've  found  out  at  last  what  he's 
going  to  do  with  me.  He  wants  me  for  his  great 
experiment,  and  the  time  is  growing  shorter." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  saying  he  wants  you?" 

"He  wants — my  life." 

Arthur  gave  a  cry  of  dismay,  but  she  put  up  her 
hand. 

"It's  no  use  resisting.  I  shan't  do  any  good — I 
think  I  shall  be  glad  when  the  moment  comes.  I 
shall  at  least  cease  to  suffer." 

"But  you  must  be  mad." 

"I  don't  know.    I  know  that  he  is." 


THE  MAGICIAN 

"But  if  your  life  is  in  danger,  come  away  for 
God's  sake.  After  all,  you're  free.  He  can't  stop 
you." 

"I  should  have  to  go  back  to  him  as  I  did  last 
time,"  she  answered,  shaking  her  head.  "I  thought 
I  was  free  then,  but  gradually  I  knew  that  he  was 
calling  me.  I  tried  to  resist,  but  I  couldn't.  I  sim- 
ply had  to  go  to  him." 

"But  it's  awful  to  think  that  you  are  alone  with 
a  man  who's  practically  raving  mad." 

"I'm  safe  for  to-day,"  she  said  quietly.  "It  can 
only  be  done  in  the  very  hot  weather.  If  there's  no 
more  this  year,  I  shall  live  till  next  summer." 

"Oh,  Margaret,  for  God's  sake  don't  talk  like 
that.  I  love  you — I  want  to  have  you  with  me  al- 
ways. Won't  you  come  away  with  me  and  let  me 
take  care  of  you?  I  promise  you  that  no  harm  shall 
come  to  you." 

"You  don't  love  me  any  more;  you're  only  sorry 
for  me  now." 

"It's  not  true." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is.  I  saw  it  when  we  were  in  the 
country.  Oh,  I  don't  blame  you.  I'm  a  different 
woman  from  the  one  you  loved.  I'm  not  the  Mar- 
garet you  knew." 

"I  can  never  care  for  anyone  but  you." 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"If  you  ever  loved  me  I  implore  you  to  go.  You 
don't  know  what  you  expose  me  to.  And  when 
I'm  dead  you  must  marry  Susie.  She  loves  you 
with  all  her  heart,  and  she  deserves  your  love." 

"Margaret,  don't  go.     Come  with  me." 


228  THE  MAGICIAN 

"And  take  care.  He  will  never  forgive  you  for 
what  you  did.  If  he  can  he  will  kill  you." 

She  started  violently,  as  though  she  heard  a  sound. 
Her  face  was  convulsed  with  sudden  fear. 

"For  God's  sake  go,  go!" 

She  turned  from  him  quickly,  and,  before  he  could 
prevent  her,  had  vanished.  With  heavy  heart  he 
plunged  again  into  the  bracken. 

When  Arthur  had  given  his  friends  some  account 
of  this  meeting,  he  stopped  and  looked  at  Dr.  Por- 
hoet.  The  doctor  went  thoughtfully  to  his  book- 


case. 

M 


What  is  it  you  want  me  to  tell  you?"  he  asked. 

"I  think  the  man  is  mad,"  said  Arthur.  "I  found 
out  at  what  asylum  his  mother  was,  and  by  good 
luck  was  able  to  see  the  superintendent  on  my  way 
through  London.  He  told  me  that  he  had  grave 
doubts  about  Haddo's  sanity,  but  it  was  impossible 
at  present  to  take  any  steps.  I  came  straight  here 
because  I  wanted  your  advice.  Granting  that  the 
man  is  out  of  his  mind,  is  it  possible  that  he  may  be 
trying  some  experiment  that  entails  a  sacrifice  of 
human  life?" 

"Nothing  is  more  probable,"  said  Dr.  Porhoet, 
gravely. 

Susie  shuddered.  She  remembered  the  rumour 
that  had  reached  her  ears  in  Monte  Carlo. 

"They  said  there  that  he  was  attempting  to  make 
human  creatures  by  a  magical  operation."  She 
glanced  at  the  doctor,  but  spoke  to  Arthur.  "Just 
before  you  came  in,  our  friend  was  talking  of  that 


THE  MAGICIAN 

book  of  Paracelsus  in  which  he  speaks  of  feeding 
the  monsters  he  had  made  on  human  blood." 

Arthur  gave  a  horrified  cry. 

"The  most  significant  thing  to  my  mind  is  that 
fact  about  Margaret  which  we  are  certain  of/5  said 
Dr.  Porhoet.  "All  works  that  deal  with  the  Black 
Arts  are  unanimous  upon  the  supreme  efficacy  of  the 
virginal  condition/' 

"But  what  is  to  be  done?"  asked  Arthur  in  des- 
peration. "We  can't  leave  her  in  the  hands  of  a 
raving  madman/'  He  turned  on  a  sudden  deathly 
white.  "For  all  we  know  she  may  be  dead  now." 

"Have  you  ever  heard  of  Gilles  de  Rais?"  said 
Dr.  Porhoet,  continuing  his  reflections.  "That  is 
the  classic  instance  of  human  sacrifice.  I  know  the 
country  in  which  he  lived;  and  the  peasants  to  this 
day  dare  not  pass  at  night  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  ruined  castle  which  was  the  scene  of  his  horrible 


crimes." 


"It's  awful  to  know  that  this  dreadful  danger 
hangs  over  her  and  to  be  able  to  do  nothing." 

"We  can  only  wait,"  said  Dr.  Porhoet. 

"And  if  we  wait  too  long,  we  may  be  faced  by  a 
terrible  catastrophe." 

"Fortunately  we  live  in  a  civilised  age.  Haddo 
has  a  great  care  of  his  neck.  I  hope  we  are  fright- 
ened unduly." 

It  seemed  to  Susie  that  the  chief  thing  was  to  dis- 
tract Arthur,  and  she  turned  over  in  her  mind  some 
means  of  directing  his  attention  to  other  matters. 

"I  was  thinking  of  going  down  to  Chartres  for 
two  days  with  Mrs.  Bloomfield,"  she  said.  "Won't 


230  THE  MAGICIAN 

you  come  with  me?  It  is  the  most  lovely  cathedral 
in  the  world,  and  I  think  you  will  find  it  restful 
to  wander  about  it  for  a  little  while.  You  can  do 
no  good,  here  or  in  London.  Perhaps  when  you  are 
calm  you  will  be  able  to  think  of  something  practical." 

Dr.  Porhoet  saw  what  her  plan  was,  and  joined 
his  entreaties  to  hers  that  Arthur  should  spend  a 
day  or  two  in  a  place  that  had  no  associations  for 
him.  Arthur  was  too  much  exhausted  to  argue, 
and  consented  from  sheer  weariness.  'Next  day  Susie 
took  him  to  Chartres.  Mrs.  Bloomfield  was  no 
trouble  to  them,  and  Susie  induced  him  to  linger 
for  a  week  in  that  pleasant,  quiet  town.  They 
passed  many  hours  in  the  stately  cathedral,  and  they 
wandered  about  the  surrounding  country.  Arthur 
was  obliged  to  confess  that  the  change  had  done 
him  good,  and  a  certain  apathy  succeeded  the  agi- 
tation from  which  he  had  suffered  so  long.  Finally 
Susie  persuaded  him  to  spend  three  or  four  weeks 
in  Brittany  with  Dr.  Porhoet,  who  was  proposing 
to  revisit  the  scenes  of  his  childhood.  They  returned 
to  Paris.  When  Arthur  left  her  at  the  station,  prom- 
ising to  meet  her  again  in  an  hour  at  the  restaurant 
where  they  were  to  dine  with  Dr.  Porhoet,  he  thanked 
her  for  all  she  had  done. 

"I  was  in  an  absurdly  hysterical  condition,"  he 
said,  holding  her  hand.  "You've  been  quite  an- 
gelic. I  knew  that  nothing  could  be  done,  and  yet 
I  was  tormented  with  the  desire  to  do  something. 
Now  I've  got  myself  in  hand  once  more.  I  think 
my  common-sense  was  deserting  me  and  I  was  on 
the  point  of  believing  in  the  farrago  of  nonsense 


THE  MAGICIAN  231 

which  they  call  magic.  After  all  it's  absurd  to 
think  that  Haddo  is  going  to  do  any  harm  to  Mar- 
garet. As  soon  as  I  get  back  to  London,  I'll  see 
my  lawyers,  and  I  dare  say  something  can  be  done. 
If  he's  really  mad  we'll  have  him  put  under  re- 
straint, and  Margaret  will  be  free.  I  shall  never 
forget  your  kindness." 

Susie  smiled  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

She  was  convinced  that  he  would  forget  every- 
thing if  Margaret  came  back  to  him.  But  she  chid 
herself  for  the  bitterness  of  the  thought.  After  all 
she  loved  him,  and  she  was  glad  to  be  able  to  do 
anything  for  him. 

She  returned  to  the  hotel,  changed  her  frock,  and 
walked  slowly  to  the  Chien  Noir.  It  always  exhil- 
arated her  to  come  back  to  Paris;  and  she  looked 
with  happy,  affectionate  eyes  at  the  plane-trees,  the 
yellow  trams  that  rumbled  along  incessantly,  and 
the  lounging  people.  When  she  arrived  Dr.  Por- 
hoet  was  waiting,  and  his  delight  at  seeing  her 
again  was  flattering  and  pleasant.  They  talked  of 
Arthur.  They  wondered  why  he  was  late. 

In  a  moment  he  came  in.  They  saw  at  once 
that  something  quite  extraordinary  had  taken  place. 

"Thank  God,  I've  found  you  at  last!"  he  cried. 

His  face  was  moving  strangely.  They  had  never 
seen  him  so  discomposed. 

"I've  been  round  to  your  hotel,  but  I  just  missed 
you.  Oh,  why  did  you  insist  on  my  going  away?" 

"What  on  earth's  the  matter?"  cried  Susie. 

"Something  awful  has  happened  to  Margaret." 

Susie  started  to  her  feet  with  a  sudden  cry  of 
dismay. 


232  THE  MAGICIAN 

"How  do  you  know?"  she  asked  quickly. 

He  looked  at  them  for  a  moment  and  flushed. 
He  kept  his  eyes  upon  them  as  though  actually  to 
force  his  listeners  into  believing  what  he  was  about 
to  say. 

"I  feel  it,"  he  answered  hoarsely. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"It  came  upon  me  quite  suddenly,  I  can't  ex- 
plain why  or  how.  I  only  know  that  something 
has  happened." 

He  began  again  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room, 
prey  to  an  agitation  that  was  frightful  to  behold. 
Susie  and  Dr.  Porhoet  stared  at  him  helplessly. 
They  tried  to  think  of  something  to  say  that  would 
calm  him. 

"Surely  if  anything  had  occurred,  we  should 
have  been  informed." 

He  turned  to  Susie  angrily. 

"How  do  you  suppose  we  could  know  anything? 
She  was  quite  helpless.  She  was  imprisoned  like 
a  rat  in  a  trap." 

"But,  my  dear  friend,  you  mustn't  give  way  in 
this  fashion,"  said  the  doctor.  "What  would  you 
say  of  a  patient  who  came  to  you  with  such  a  story?" 

Arthur  answered  the  question  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders. 

"I  should  say  he  was  absurdly  hysterical." 

"Well?" 

"I  can't  help  it,  the  feeling's  there.  If  you  try 
all  night  you'll  never  be  able  to  argue  me  out  of 
it.  I  feel  it  in  every  bone  of  my  body.  I  couldn't 
be  more  certain  if  I  saw  Margaret  lying  dead  in 
front  of  me." 


THE  MAGICIAN  233 

Susie  saw  that  it  was  indeed  useless  to  reason 
with  him.  The  only  course  was  to  accept  his  con- 
viction and  make  the  best  of  it. 

"What  do  you  want  us  to  do?"  she  asked. 

"I  want  you  both  to  come  to  England  with  me 
at  once.  If  we  start  now  we  can  catch  the  evening 
train/5 

Susie  did  not  answer,  but  she  got  up.  She  touched 
the  doctor  on  the  arm. 

"  Please  come,"  she  whispered. 

He  nodded  and  untucked  the  napkin  he  had  al- 
ready arranged  over  his  waistcoat. 

"I've  got  a  cab  at  the  door/'  said  Arthur. 

"And  what  about  clothes  for  Miss  Susie?"  said 
the  doctor. 

"Oh,  we  can't  wait  for  that,"  cried  Arthur.  "For 
God's  sake,  come  quickly." 

Susie  knew  that  there  was  plenty  of  time  to  fetch 
a  few  necessary  things  before  the  train  started, 
but  Arthur's  impatience  was  too  great  to  be  with- 
stood. 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  she  said.  "I  can  get  all  I 
want  in  England." 

He  hurried  them  to  the  door  and  told  the  cab- 
man to  drive  to  the  station  as  quickly  as  ever  he 
could. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  calm  down  a  little,"  said 
Susie.  "You'll  be  no  good  to  anyone  in  that  state." 

"I  feel  certain  we're  too  late." 

"Nonsense!  I'm  convinced  that  you'll  find  Mar- 
garet safe  and  sound." 

He  did  not  answer.  He  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  as 
they  drove  into  the  courtyard  of  the  station. 


Chapter  XIV 

SUSIE  never  forgot  the  horror  of  that  journey  to 
England.  They  arrived  in  London  early  in  the 
morning  and,  without  stopping,  drove  to  Euston. 
For  three  or  four  days  there  had  been  unusual 
heat,  and  even  at  that  hour  the  streets  were  sultry 
and  airless.  The  train  north  was  crowded,  and  it 
seemed  impossible  to  get  a  breath  of  air.  Her  head 
ached,  but  she  was  obliged  to  keep  a  cheerful  de- 
meanour in  the  effort  to  allay  Arthur's  increasing 
anxiety.  Dr.  Porhoet  sat  in  front  of  her.  After 
the  sleepless  night  his  eyes  were  weary  and  his  face 
was  deeply  lined.  He  was  utterly  exhausted.  At 
length,  after  much  tiresome  changing,  they  reached 
Yenning.  She  had  expected  a  greater  coolness  in  that 
northern  country;  but  there  was  a  hot  blight  over 
the  place,  and,  as  they  walked  to  the  inn  from  the 
little  station,  they  could  hardly  drag  their  limbs 
along. 

Arthur  had  telegraphed  from  London  that  they 
must  have  rooms  ready,  and  the  landlady  expected 
them.  She  recognised  Arthur.  He  passionately 
desired  to  ask  her  whether  anything  had  happened 
since  he  went  away,  but  forced  himself  to  be  silent 
for  a  while.  He  greeted  her  with  cheerfulness. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Smithers,  what  has  been  going  on 
since  I  left  you?"  he  cried. 

234 


THE  MAGICIAN  235 

"Of  course  you  wouldn't  have  heard,  sir,"  she 
answered  gravely. 

He  began  to  tremble,  but  with  an  almost  super- 
human effort  controlled  his  voice. 

"Has  the  squire  hanged  himself?"  he  asked  lightly. 

"No,  sir— but  the  poor  lady's  dead." 

He  did  not  answer.  He  seemed  turned  to  stone. 
He  stared  with  ghastly  eyes. 

"Poor  thing!"  said  Susie,  forcing  herself  to  speak. 
"Was  it — very  sudden?" 

The  garrulous  innkeeper  turned  to  Susie,  glad  to 
have  someone  with  whom  to  discuss  the  event.  She 
took  no  notice  of  Arthur's  agony. 

"Yes,  mum;  no  one  expected  it.  She  died  quite 
suddenly.  She  was  only  buried  this  morning." 

"What  did  she  die  of?"  asked  Susie,  her  eyes  on 
Arthur. 

She  feared  that  he  would  faint.  She  wanted 
enormously  to  get  him  away,  but  did  not  know  how 
to  manage  it. 

"They  say  it  was  heart  disease,"  answered  the 
landlady.  "Poor  thing!  it's  a  happy  release  for 
her." 

"Won't  you  get  us  some  tea,  Mrs.  Smithers? 
We're  very  tired,  and  we  should  like  something 
immediately." 

"Yes,  miss.     I'll  get  it  at  once." 

The  good  woman  bustled  away.  Susie  quickly 
locked  the  door.  She  seized  Arthur's  arm. 

"Arthur,  Arthur." 

She  expected  him  to  break  down.  She  looked 
with  agony  at  Dr.  Porhoet,  who  stood  helplessly  by. 


236  THE  MAGICIAN 

"You  couldn't  have  done  anything  if  you'd  been 
here.  You  heard  what  that  woman  said.  If  Mar- 
garet died  of  heart  disease  your  suspicions  were  quite 
without  ground." 

He  shook  her  away,  almost  violently. 

"For  God's  sake,  speak  to  us,"  cried  Susie. 

His  utter  silence  terrified  her  more  than  would 
have  done  any  outburst  of  grief.  Dr.  Porhoet  went 
up  to  him  gently. 

"Don't  try  to  be  too  brave,  my  friend.  You  will 
not  suffer  so  much  if  you  allow  yourself  a  little 
weakness." 

"For  Heaven's  sake  leave  me  alone!"  said  Arthur, 
hoarsely. 

They  drew  back  and  watched  him  silently.  Susie 
heard  their  hostess  come  along  to  the  sitting-room 
with  tea,  and  she  unlocked  the  door.  The  landlady 
brought  in  the  things.  She  was  on  the  point  of 
leaving  them  when  Arthur  stopped  her. 

"How  do  you  know  that  Mrs.  Haddo  died  of  heart 
disease?"  he  asked  suddenly. 

His  voice  was  hard  and  stern.  He  spoke  with  a 
peculiar  abruptness  that  made  the  poor  woman  look 
at  him  in  amazement. 

"Dr.  Richardson  told  me  so." 

"Had  he  been  attending  her?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Mr.  Haddo  had  called  him  in  several 
times  to  see  his  lady." 

"Where  does  Dr.  Richardson  live?" 

"Why,  sir,  he  lives  at  the  white  house  near  the 
station." 


THE  MAGICIAN  237 

She  could  not  make  out  why  Arthur  asked  these 
questions. 

"Did  Mr.  Haddo  go  to  the  funeral?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir.     I've  never  seen  anyone  so  upset." 

"That'll  do.     You  can  go." 

Susie  poured  out  the  tea  and  handed  it  to  Arthur. 
To  her  surprise,  he  drank  it  and  ate  some  bread  and 
butter.  She  could  not  understand  him.  The  ex- 
pression of  strain  and  the  restlessness  which  had 
been  so  painful,  were  both  gone  from  his  face,  and 
it  was  set  now  to  a  look  of  grim  determination. 
At  last  he  spoke  to  them. 

"I'm  going  to  see  this  doctor.  Margaret's  heart 
was  as  sound  as  mine." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Do?" 

He  turned  on  her  with  a  peculiar  fierceness. 

"I'm  going  to  put  a  rope  round  that  man's  neck, 
and  if  the  law  won't  help  me,  by  God,  I'll  kill  him 
myself." 

"Mais,  mon  ami,  vous  etesfou,"  cried  Dr.  Porhoet, 
springing  up. 

Arthur  put  out  his  hand  angrily,  as  though  to  keep 
him  back.  The  frown  on  his  face  grew  darker. 

"You  must  leave  me  alone.  Good  Heavens,  the 
time  has  gone  by  for  tears  and  lamentation.  After 
all  I've  gone  through  for  months  I  can't  weep  be- 
cause Margaret  is  dead.  My  heart  is  dried  up. 
But  I  know  that  she  didn't  die  naturally,  and  I'll 
never  rest  so  long  as  that  fellow  lives." 

He  stretched  out  his  hands  and  with  clenched 
jaws  prayed  that  one  day  he  might  hold  the  man's 


238  THE  MAGICIAN 

neck  between  them,  and  see  his  face  turn  livid  and 
purple  as  he  died. 

"I  am  going  to  this  fool  of  a  doctor,  and  then  I 
shall  go  to  Skene." 

"You  must  let  us  come  with  you,"  said  Susie. 

"You  need  not  be  frightened,"  he  answered.  "I 
shall  not  take  any  steps  of  my  own  till  I  find  the 
law  is  powerless." 

"I  want  to  come  with  you  all  the  same." 

"As  you  like." 

Susie  went  out  and  ordered  a  trap  to  be  got  ready. 
But  since  Arthur  would  not  wait,  she  arranged 
that  it  should  be  sent  for  them  to  the  doctor's  door. 
They  went  there  at  once,  on  foot. 

Dr.  Richardson  was  a  little  man  of  five-and-fifty, 
with  a  fair  beard  that  was  now  nearly  white,  and 
prominent  blue  eyes.  He  spoke  with  a  broad  Staf- 
fordshire accent.  There  was  in  him  something  of 
the  farmer,  something  of  the  well-to-do  tradesman, 
and  at  the  first  glance  his  intelligence  did  not  impress 
one. 

Arthur  was  shewn  with  his  two  friends  into  the 
consulting-room,  and  after  a  short  interval  the  doc- 
tor came  in.  He  was  dressed  in  flannels  and  had  an 
old-fashioned  racket  in  his  hand. 

"Fm  sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,  but  Mrs. 
Richardson  has  got  a  few  lady-friends  to  tea,  and 
I  was  just  in  the  middle  of  a  set." 

His  effusiveness  jarred  upon  Arthur,  whose  man- 
ner by  contrast  became  more  than  usually  abrupt. 

"  I  have  just  learnt  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Haddo.  I 
was  her  guardian  and  her  oldest  friend.  I  came  to 


t 

THE  MAGICIAN  239 

you  in  the  hope  that  you  would  be  able  to  tell  me 
something  about  it." 

Dr.  Richardson  gave  him  at  once  the  suspicious 
glance  of  a  stupid  man. 

"I  don't  know  why  you  come  to  me  instead  of  to 
her  husband.  He  will  be  able  to  tell  you  all  that 
you  wish  to  know/' 

"I  came  to  you  as  a  fellow-practitioner,"  answered 
Arthur.  "I  am  at  St.  Luke's  Hospital."  He 
pointed  to  his  card,  which  Dr.  Richardson  still  held. 
"And  my  friend  is  Dr.  Porhoet,  whose  name  will  be 
familiar  to  you  with  respect  to  his  studies  in  Malta 
Fever." 

"I  think  I  read  an  article  of  yours  in  the  B.  M.  J.," 
said  the  country  doctor. 

His  manner  assumed  a  singular  hostility.  He 
had  no  sympathy  with  London  specialists,  whose 
attitude  towards  the  general  practitioner  he  resented. 
He  was  pleased  to  sneer  at  their  pretensions  to 
omniscience,  and  quite  willing  to  pit  himself  against 
them. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Burdon?" 

"I  should  be  very  much  obliged  if  you  would  tell 
tell  me  as  exactly  as  possible  how  Mrs.  Haddo  died." 

"It  was  a  very  simple  case  of  endocarditis." 

Arthur  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  from 
which  it  was  easy  to  see  his  scorn. 

"May  I  ask  how  long  before  death  you  were 
called  in?" 

The  doctor  hesitated.     He  reddened  a  little. 

"I'm  not  inclined  to  be  cross-examined,"  he  burst 
out,  suddenly  making  up  his  mind  to  be  angry. 


240  THE  MAGICIAN 

"As  a  surgeon  I  dare  say  your  knowledge  of  cardiac 
diseases  is  neither  extensive  nor  peculiar.  But  this 
was  a  very  simple  case,  and  everything  was  done 
that  was  possible.  I  don't  think  there's  anything 
I  can  tell  you." 

Arthur  took  no  notice  of  the  outburst. 

"How  many  times  did  you  see  her?" 

"Really,  sir,  I  don't  understand  your  attitude. 
I  can't  see  that  you  have  any  right  to  question  me." 

"Did  you  have  a  post-mortem?" 

"Certainly  not.  In  the  first  place  there  was  no 
need,  as  the  cause  of  death  was  perfectly  clear,  and 
secondly  you  must  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  the  rela- 
tives are  very  averse  to  anything  of  the  sort.  You 
gentlemen  in  Harley  Street  don't  understand  the  con- 
ditions of  private  practice.  We  haven't  the  time 
to  do  post-mortems  to  gratify  a  needless  curiosity." 

Arthur  was  silent  for  a  moment.  The  little  man 
was  evidently  convinced  that  there  was  nothing  odd 
about  Margaret's  death,  but  his  foolishness  was  as 
great  as  his  obstinacy.  It  was  clear  that  several 
motives  would  induce  him  to  put  every  obstacle  in 
Arthur's  way,  and  chief  of  these  was  the  harm  it 
would  do  him  if  it  were  discovered  that  he  had  given 
a  certificate  of  death  carelessly.  He  would  naturally 
do  anything  to  avoid  scandal.  Still  Arthur  was 
obliged  to  speak. 

"I  think  I'd  better  tell  you  frankly  that  I'm  not 
satisfied,  Dr.  Richardson.  I  can't  persuade  myself 
that  this  lady's  death  was  due  to  natural  causes." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  cried  the  other  angrily. 
"I've  been  in  practice  for  hard  upon  thirty-five 


THE  MAGICIAN  241 

years,  and  I'm  willing  to  stake  my  professional  rep- 
utation on  it." 

"I  have  reason  to  think  you  are  mistaken." 

"And  to  what  do  you  ascribe  death,  pray?"  asked 
the  doctor. 

"I  don't  know  yet." 

"Upon  my  soul,  I  think  you  must  be  out  of  your 
senses.  Really,  sir,  your  behaviour  is  childish.  You 
tell  me  that  you  are  a  surgeon  of  some  eminence  .  .  ." 

"I  surely  told  you  nothing  of  the  sort." 

"Anyhow,  you  read  papers  before  learned  bodies 
and  have  them  printed.  And  you  come  with  as 
silly  a  story  as  a  Staffordshire  peasant  who  thinks 
someone  has  been  trying  to  poison  him  because  he's 
got  a  stomach-ache.  You  may  be  a  very  admirable 
surgeon,  but  I  venture  to  think  I  am  more  capable 
than  you  of  judging  in  a  case  which  I  attended  and 
you  know  nothing  about." 

"I  mean  to  take  the  steps  necessary  to  get  an 
order  for  exhumation,  Dr.  Richardson,  and  I  can- 
not help  thinking  it  will  be  worth  your  while  to 
assist  me  in  every  possible  way." 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  think  you 
very  impertinent,  sir.  There  is  no  need  for  exhu- 
mation, and  I  shall  do  everything  in  my  power  to 
prevent  it.  And  I  tell  you  as  chairman  of  the  board 
of  magistrates,  my  opinion  will  have  as  great  value 
as  any  specialist's  in  Harley  Street." 

He  flounced  to  the  door  and  held  it  open.  Susie 
and  Dr.  Porhoet  walked  out;  and  Arthur,  looking 
down  thoughtfully,  followed  on  their  heels.  Dr. 
Richardson  slammed  the  street-door  angrily. 


£42  THE  MAGICIAN 

Dr.  Porhoet  slipped  his  arm  in  Arthur's. 

"You  must  be  reasonable,  my  friend/'  he  said. 
"From  his  own  point  of  view  this  doctor  has  all 
the  rights  on  his  side.  You  have  nothing  to  jus- 
tify your  demands.  It  is  monstrous  to  expect  that 
for  a  vague  suspicion  you  will  be  able  to  get  an 
order  for  exhumation. " 

Arthur  did  not  answer.  The  trap  was  waiting  for 
them. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  see  Haddo?"  insisted  the 
doctor.  "You  will  do  no  more  good  than  you  have 
with  Dr.  Richardson." 

"I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  see  him,"  answered 
Arthur  shortly.  "But  there  is  no  need  that  either 
of  you  should  accompany  me." 

"If  you  go  we  will  come  with  you,"  said  Susie. 

Without  a  word  Arthur  jumped  into  the  dogcart, 
and  Susie  took  the  seat  by  his  side.  Dr.  Porhoet, 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  mounted  behind. 
Arthur  whipped  up  the  pony,  and  at  a  smart  trot 
they  traversed  the  three  miles  across  the  barren 
heath  that  lay  between  Yenning  and  Skene. 

When  they  reached  the  park  gates,  the  lodge- 
keeper,  as  luck  would  have  it,  was  standing  just 
inside,  and  she  held  one  of  them  open  for  her  little 
boy  to  come  in.  He  was  playing  in  the  road  and 
showed  no  inclination  to  do  so.  Arthur  jumped 
down. 

"I  want  to  see  Mr.  Haddo,"  he  said. 

"Mr.  Haddo's  not  in,"  she  answered  roughly. 

She  tried  to  close  the  gate,  but  Arthur  quickly  put 
his  foot  inside. 


THE  MAGICIAN  243 

"Nonsense!  I  have  to  see  him  on  a  matter  of 
great  importance." 

"Mr.  Haddo's  orders  are  that  no  one  is  to  be 
admitted. 

"I  can't  help  that,  I'm  proposing  to  come  in  all 
the  same." 

Susie  and  Dr.  Porhoet  came  forward.  They 
promised  the  small  boy  a  shilling  to  hold  their 
horse. 

"Now  then,  get  out  of  here,"  cried  the  woman. 
"You're  not  coming  in  whatever  you  say." 

She  tried  to  push  the  gate  to,  but  Arthur's  foot 
prevented  her.  Paying  no  heed  to  her  angry  ex- 
postulations, he  forced  his  way  in.  He  walked 
quickly  up  the  drive.  The  lodgekeeper  accompanied 
him,  with  shrill  abuse.  The  gate  was  left  unguarded, 
and  the  others  were  able  to  follow  without  difficulty. 

"You  can  go  to  the  door,  but  you  won't  see 
Mr.  Haddo,"  the  woman  cried  angrily.  "You'll 
get  me  sacked  for  letting  you  come." 

Susie  saw  the  house.  It  was  a  fine  old  building 
in  the  Elizabethan  style,  but  much  in  need  of  re- 
pair; and  it  had  the  desolate  look  of  a  place  that 
has  been  long  uninhabited.  The  garden  that  sur- 
rounded it  had  been  allowed  to  run  wild,  and  the 
avenue  up  which  they  walked  was  green  with  rank 
weeds.  Here  and  there  a  fallen  tree,  which  none 
had  troubled  to  remove,  marked  the  owner's  negli- 
gence. Arthur  went  to  the  door  and  rang  a  bell. 
They  heard  it  clang  through  the  house  as  though 
not  a  soul  lived  there.  A  man  came  to  the  door,  and 
as  soon  as  he  opened  it,  Arthur,  expecting  to  be 


244  THE  MAGICIAN 

/ 

refused  admission,  pushed  in.  The  fellow  was  as 
angry  as  the  virago,  his  wife,  who  explained  noisily 
how  the  three  strangers  had  got  into  the  park. 

"You  can't  see  the  squire,  so  you'd  better  be 
off.  He's  up  in  the  attics,  and  no  one's  allowed  to 
go  to  him." 

The  man  tried  to  push  Arthur  away. 

"Be  off  with  you,  or  I'll  send  for  the  police." 

"Don't  be  a  fool,"  said  Arthur.  "I  mean  to  find 
Mr.  Haddo." 

The  housekeeper  and  his  wife  broke  out  with 
abuse,  to  which  Arthur  listened  in  silence.  Susie 
and  Dr.  Porhoet  stood  by  anxiously.  They  did  not 
know  what  to  do.  Suddenly  a  voice  at  their  el- 
bows made  them  start,  and  the  two  servants  were 
immediately  silent. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

Oliver  Haddo  was  standing  motionless  behind 
them.  It  startled  Susie  that  he  should  have  come 
upon  them  so  suddenly,  without  a  sound.  Dr.  Por- 
hoet, who  had  not  seen  him  for  some  time,  was 
astounded  at  the  change  which  had  taken  place  in 
him.  The  corpulence  which  had  been  his  before 
was  become  now  a  positive  disease.  He  was  enor- 
mous. His  chin  was  a  mass  of  heavy  folds  dis- 
tended with  fat,  and  his  cheeks  were  puffed  up  so 
that  his  eyes  were  preternaturally  small.  He  peered 
at  you  from  between  the  swollen  lids.  All  his 
features  had  sunk  into  that  hideous  obesity.  His 
ears  were  horribly  bloated,  and  the  lobes  were  large 
and  swelled.  He  had  apparently  a  difficulty  in 
breathing,  for  his  large  mouth,  with  its  scarlet, 


THE  MAGICIAN  245 

shining  lips,  was  constantly  open.  He  had  grown 
much  balder  and  now  there  was  only  a  crescent 
of  long  hair  stretching  across  the  back  of  his  head 
from  ear  to  ear.  There  was  something  terrible 
about  that  great  shining  scalp.  His  pauhch  was 
huge;  he  was  a  very  tall  man  and  held  himself 
erect,  so  that  it  protruded  like  a  vast  barrel.  His 
hands  were  infinitely  repulsive;  they  were  red  and 
soft  and  moist.  He  was  sweating  freely,  and  beads 
of  perspiration  stood  on  his  forehead  and  on  his 
shaven  lip. 

For  a  moment  they  all  looked  at  one  another  in 
silence.  Then  Haddo  turned  to  his  servants. 

"Go,"  he  said. 

As  though  frightened  out  of  their  wits,  they 
made  for  the  door  and  with  a  bustling  hurry  flung 
themselves  out.  A  torpid  smile  crossed  his  face  as 
he  watched  them  go.  Then  he  moved  a  step  nearer 
his  visitors.  His  manner  had  still  the  insolent  ur- 
banity which  was  customary  to  him. 

"And  now,  my  friends,  will  you  tell  me  how  I 
can  be  of  service  to  you." 

"I  have  come  about  Margaret's  death,"  said 
Arthur. 

Haddo,  "as  was  his  habit,  did  not  immediately 
answer.  He  looked  slowly  from  Arthur  to  Dr. 
Porhoet,  and  from  Dr.  Porhoet  to  Susie.  His  eyes 
rested  on  her  hat,  and  she  felt  uncomfortably  that 
he  was  inventing  some  gibe  about  it. 

"I  should  have  thought  this  hardly  the  moment 
to  intrude  upon  my  sorrow,"  he  said  at  last.  "If 
you  have  condolences  to  offer  I  venture  to  suggest 


246  THE  MAGICIAN 

that  you  might  conveniently  send  them  by  means  ot 
the  penny  post." 

Arthur  frowned. 

"Why  did  you  not  let  me  know  that  she  was  ill?" 
he  asked. 

"  Strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  my  worthy 
friend,  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  my  wife's  health 
could  be  any  business  of  yours." 

A  faint  smile  flickered  once  more  on  Haddo's 
lips,  but  his  eyes  had  still  the  peculiar  hardness 
which  was  so  uncanny.  Arthur  looked  at  him 
steadily. 

"I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  you  killed 
her,"  he  said. 

Haddo's  face  did  not  for  an  instant  change  its 
expression. 

"And  have  you  communicated  your  suspicions  to 
the  police?" 

"I  propose  to." 

"And,  if  I  am  not  indiscreet,  may  I  inquire  upon 
what  you  base  them?" 

"I  saw  Margaret  three  weeks  ago,  and  she  told 
me  that  she  went  in  terror  of  her  life." 

"Poor  Margaret!  She  had  always  the  romantic 
temperament.  I  think  it  was  that  which  first 
brought  us  together." 

"You  damned  scoundrel!"  cried  Arthur. 

"My  dear  fellow,  pray  moderate  your  language. 
This  is  surely  not  an  occasion  when  you  should 
give  way  to  your  lamentable  taste  for  abuse.  You 
outrage  all  Miss  Boyd's  susceptibilities."  He  turned 
to  her  with  an  airy  wave  of  his  fat  hand.  "You 


THE  MAGICIAN  £47 

must  forgive  me  if  I  do  not  offer  you  the  hospital- 
ity of  Skene,  but  the  loss  I  have  so  lately  sustained 
does  not  permit  me  to  indulge  in  the  levity  of  en- 
tertaining." 

He  gave  her  an  ironical,  low  bow;  then  looked 
once  more  at  Arthur. 

"If  I  can  be  of  no  further  use  to  you,  perhaps 
you  would  leave  me  to  my  own  reflections.  The 
lodgekeeper  will  give  you  the  exact  address  of  the 
village  constable." 

Arthur  did  not  answer.  He  stared  into  vacancy 
as  if  he  were  turning  over  other  things  in  his  mind. 
Then  he  turned  sharply  on  his  heel  and  walked  to- 
wards the  gate.  Susie  and  Dr.  Porhoet,  taken 
completely  aback,  did  not  know  what  to  do;  and 
Haddo's  little  eyes  twinkled  as  he  watched  their 
discomfiture. 

"I  always  thought  that  your  friend  had  deplor- 
able manners,"  he  murmured. 

Susie,  feeling  very  ridiculous,  flushed,  and  Dr. 
Porhoet  awkwardly  took  off  his  hat.  As  they  walked 
away,  they  felt  Haddo's  mocking  gaze  fixed  upon 
them,  and  they  were  heartily  thankful  to  reach  the 
gate.  They  found  Arthur  waiting  for  them. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "I  forgot  that  I 
was  not  alone." 

The  three  of  them  walked  slowly  back  to  the  inn. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  asked  Susie. 

For  a  long  time  Arthur  made  no  reply,  and  Susie 
thought  he  could  not  have  heard  her.  At  last  he 
broke  the  silence. 

"I  see  that  I  can  do  nothing  by  ordinary  meth- 


248  THE  MAGICIAN 

ods.  I  realise  that  it  is  useless  to  make  a  public 
outcry.  There  is  only  my  own  conviction  that 
Margaret  came  to  a  violent  end,  and  I  cannot  ex- 
pect anyone  to  pay  heed  to  that." 

"After  all,  it's  just  possible  that  she  really  died 
of  heart  disease." 

Arthur  gave  Susie  a  long  look.  He  seemed  to 
consider  her  words  deliberately. 

"Perhaps  there  are  means  to  decide  that  con- 
clusively," he  replied  at  length,  thoughtfully,  as 
though  he  were  talking  to  himself. 

"What  are  they?" 

Arthur  did  not  answer.  When  they  came  to  the 
door  of  the  house  in  which  they  were  living  he 
stopped. 

"Will  you  go  in ?  I  wish  to  take  a  walk  by  myself," 
he  said. 

Susie  looked  at  him  anxiously. 

"You're  not  going  to  do  anything  rash?" 

"I  will  do  nothing  till  I  have  made  quite  sure  that 
Margaret  was  foully  murdered." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  quickly  away. 
It  was  late  now,  and  they  found  a  frugal  meal  wait- 
ing for  them  in  the  little  sitting-room.  It  seemed  no 
use  to  delay  it  till  Arthur  came  back,  and  silently, 
sorrowfully,  they  ate.  Afterwards  the  doctor  smoked 
cigarettes,  while  Susie  sat  at  the  open  window  and 
looked  at  the  stars.  She  thought  of  Margaret,  of 
her  beauty  and  her  charming  frankness,  of  her  fall 
and  of  her  miserable  end;  and  she  began  to  cry 
quietly.  She  knew  enough  of  the  facts  now  to  be 
aware  that  the  wretched  girl  was  not  to  blame  for 


THE  MAGICIAN  249 

anything  that  had  happened.  A  cruel  fate  had  fallen 
upon  her,  and  she  had  been  as  powerless  as  in  the 
old  tales  Phoedra,  the  daughter  of  Minos,  or  Myrrha 
of  the  beautiful  hair.  The  hours  passed,  and  still 
Arthur  did  not  return.  Susie  thought  now  only  of 
him,  and  she  was  frightfully  anxious. 

But  at  last  he  came  in.  The  night  was  far  ad- 
vanced. He  put  down  his  hat  and  sat  down.  For 
a  long  while  he  looked  silently  at  Dr.  Porhoet. 

"What  is  it,  my  friend?"  asked  the  good  doctor 
at  length. 

"Do  you  remember  that  you,  told  us  once  of  an 
experiment  you  made  in  Alexandria?"  he  said,  after 
some  hesitation.^ 

He  spoke  in  a  curious  voice. 

"You  told  us  that  you  took  a  boy,  and  when  he 
looked  in  a  magic  mirror,  he  saw  things  which  he 
could  not  possibly  have  known." 

"I  remember  very  well,"  said  the  doctor. 

"I  was  much  inclined  to  laugh  at  you  at  the  time. 
I  was  convinced  that  the  boy  was  a  knave  who 
deceived  you." 

"Yes?" 

"Of  late  I've  thought  of  that  story  often.  Some 
hidden  recess  of  my  memory  has  been  opened,  and 
I  seem  to  remember  strange  things.  Was  I  the 
boy  who  looked  in  the  ink?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor  quietly. 

Arthur  did  not  say  anything.  A  profound  silence 
fell  upon  them,  while  Susie  and  the  doctor  watched 
him  intently.  They  wondered  what  was  in  his  mind. 

"There  is  a  side  of  my  character  which  I  did 


250  THE  MAGICIAN 

not  know  till  lately,"  Arthur  said  at  last.  "When 
first  it  dawned  upon  me  I  fought  against  it.  I  said 
to  myself  that  deep  down  in  all  of  us,  a  relic  from 
the  long  past,  is  the  remains  of  the  superstition 
that  blinded  our  fathers;  and  it  is  needful  for  the 
man  of  science  to  fight  against  it  with  all  his  might. 
And  yet  it  was  stronger  than  I.  Perhaps  my  birth, 
my  early  years,  in  those  Eastern  lands  where  every- 
one believes  in  the  supernatural,  affected  me  although 
I  knew  it  not.  I  began  to  remember  vague,  mysteri- 
ous things,  which  I  never  knew  had  been  part  of  my 
knowledge.  And  at  last  one  day  it  seemed  that  a 
new  window  was  opened  on  to  my  soul,  and  I  saw 
with  extraordinary  clearness  the  incident  which  you 
had  described.  I  knew  suddenly  it  was  part  of  my 
own  experience.  I  saw  you  take  me  by  the  hand  and 
pour  the  ink  on  my  palm  and  bid  me  look  at  it.  I 
felt  again  the  strange  glow  that  thrilled  me,  and 
with  an  indescribable  distinctness  I  saw  things  in  the 
mirror  which  were  not  there  before.  I  saw  people 
whom  I  had  never  seen.  I  saw  them  perform  certain 
actions.  And  some  force  I  knew  not,  obliged  me  to 
speak.  And  at  length  everything  grew  dim,  and  I 
was  as  exhausted  as  if  I  had  not  eaten  all  day/' 

He  went  over  to  the  open  window  and  looked 
out.  Neither  of  the  others  spoke.  The  look  on 
Arthur's  face,  curiously  outlined  by  the  light  of  the 
lamp,  was  very  stern.  He  seemed  to  undergo  some 
mental  struggle  of  extraordinary  violence.  His 
breath  came  quickly.  At  last  he  turned  and  faced 
them.  He  spoke  hoarsely,  quickly. 

"I  must  see  Margaret  again." 


THE  MAGICIAN  251 

" Arthur,  you're  mad!"  cried  Susie. 

He  went  up  to  Dr.  Porhoet  and,  putting  his  hands 
on  his  shoulders,  looked  fixedly  into  his  eyes. 

"You  have  studied  this  science.  You  know  all 
that  can  be  known  of  it.  I  want  you  to  show  her 
to  me." 

The  doctor  gave  an  exclamation  of  alarm. 

"My  dear  fellow,  how  can  I?  I  have  read  many 
books,  but  I  have  never  practised  anything.  I  have 
only  studied  these  matters  for  my  amusement." 

"Do  you  believe  it  can  be  done?" 

"I  don't  understand  what  you  want." 

"I  want  you  to  bring  her  to  me  so  that  I  may 
speak  with  her,  so  that  I  may  find  out  the  truth." 

"Do  you  think  I  am  God  that  I  can  raise  men 
from  the  dead?" 

Arthur's  hands  pressed  him  down  in  the  chair 
from  which  he  sought  to  rise.  His  fingers  were 
clenched  on  the  old  man's  shoulders  so  that  he 
could  hardly  bear  the  pain. 

"You  told  us  once  how  Eliphas  Levi  raised  a 
spirit.  Do  you  believe  that  was  true?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  have  always  kept  an  open 
rpind.  There  was  much  to  be  said  on  both  sides." 

"Well,  now  you  must  believe.  You  must  do 
what  he  did." 

"You  must  be  mad,  Arthur." 

"I  want  you  to  come  to  that  spot  where  I  saw 
her  last.  If  her  spirit  can  be  brought  back  any- 
where it  must  be  in  that  place  where  she  sat  and 
wept.  You  know  all  the  ceremonies  and  all  the 
words  that  are  necessary." 


252  THE  MAGICIAN 

But  Susie  came  forward  and  laid  her  hand  on  his 
arm.  He  looked  at  her  with  a  frown. 

"Arthur,  you  know  in  your  heart  that  nothing 
can  come  of  it.  You're  only  increasing  your  un- 
happiness.  And  even  if  you  could  bring  her  from 
the  grave  for  a  moment,  why  can  you  not  let  her 
troubled  soul  rest  in  peace?" 

"If  she  died  a  natural  death  we  shall  have  no 
power  over  her,  but  if  her  death  was  violent  perhaps 
her  spirit  is  earthbound  still.  I  tell  you  I  must  be 
certain.  I  want  to  see  her  once  more,  and  afterwards 
I  shall  know  what  to  do." 

"I  cannot,  I  cannot,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Give  me  the  books  and  I  will  do  it  alone/' 

"You  know  that  I  have  nothing  here." 

"Then  you  must  help  me,"  said  Arthur.  "After 
all,  why  should  you  mind?  We  perform  a  certain 
operation,  and  if  nothing  happens  we  are  no  worse 
off  than  before.  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  suc- 
ceed. .  .  .  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  help  me!  If  you  have 
any  care  for  my  happiness  do  this  one  thing  for  me." 

He  stepped  back  and  looked  at  the  doctor.  The 
Frenchman's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  ground. 

"It's  madness,"  he  muttered. 

He  was  intensely  moved  by  Arthur's  appeal.  At 
last  he  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"After  all,  if  it  is  but  a  foolish  mummery  it  can 
do  no  harm." 

"You  will  help  me?"  cried  Arthur. 

"If  it  can  give  you  any  peace  or  any  satisfaction, 
I  am  willing  to  do  what  I  can.  But  I  warn  you  to 
be  prepared  for  a  great  disappointment." 


Chapter  XV 

AUTHUR  wished  to  set  about  the  invocations 
then  and  there,  but  Dr.  Porhoet  said  it  was 
impossible.  They  were  all  exhausted  after  the  long 
journey,  and  it  was  necessary  to  get  certain  things 
together  without  which  nothing  could  be  done.  In 
his  heart  he  thought  that  a  night's  rest  would  bring 
Arthur  to  a  more  reasonable  mind.  When  the  light 
of  day  shone  upon  the  earth  he  would  be  ashamed  of 
the  desire  which  ran  counter  to  all  his  preposses- 
sions. But  Arthur  remembered  that  on  the  next 
day  it  would  be  exactly  a  week  since  Margaret's 
death,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  then  their  spells 
might  have  a  greater  efficacy. 

When  they  came  down  in  the  morning  and  greeted 
one  another,  it  was  plain  that  none  of  them  had 
slept. 

"Are  you  still  of  the  same  purpose  as  last  night?" 
asked  Dr.  Porhoet  gravely. 

"I  am." 

The  doctor  hesitated  nervously. 

"It  will  be  necessary,  if  you  wish  to  follow  out 
the  rules  of  the  old  necromancers,  to  fast  through 
the  whole  day." 

"I  arn  ready  to  do  anything." 

"It  will  be  no  hardship  to  me,"  said  Susie,  with 

258 


254  THE  MAGICIAN 

a  little  hysterical  laugh.     "I  feel  I  couldn't  eat  a 
thing  if  I  tried/' 

"I  think  the  whole   affair  is  sheer  folly,"   said 
Dr.  Porhoet. 

"You  promised  me  you  would  try." 

The  day,  the  long  summer  day,  passed  slowly. 
There  was  a  hard  brilliancy  in  the  sky  that  re- 
minded the  Frenchman  of  those  Egyptian  heavens 
when  the  earth  seemed  crushed  beneath  a  bowl  of 
molten  fire.  Arthur  was  too  restless  to  remain  in- 
doors and  left  the  others  to  their  own  devices.  He 
walked  without  aim,  as  fast  as  he  could  go;  he  felt 
no  weariness.  The  burning  sun  beat  down  upon 
him,  but  he  did  not  know  it.  The  hours  passed 
with  lagging  feet.  Susie  lay  on  her  bed  and  tried 
to  read.  Her  nerves  were  so  taut  that,  when  there 
was  a  sound  in  the  courtyard  of  a  pail  falling  on  the. 
cobbles,  she  cried  out  in  terror.  The  sun  rose  up, 
and  presently  her  window  was  flooded  with  quiver- 
ing rays  of  gold.  It  was  midday.  The  sun  passed 
on,  and  it  was  afternoon.  The  evening  came,  but  it 
brought  no  freshness.  Meanwhile  Dr.  Porhoet  sat 
in  the  little  parlour,  with  his  head  between  his 
hands,  trying  by  a  great  mental  effort  to  bring  back 
to  his  memory  all  that  he  had  read.  His  heart  be- 
gan to  beat  more  quickly.  Then  the  night  fell, 
and  one  by  one  the  stars  shone  out.  There  was  no 
wind.  The  air  was  peculiarly  heavy.  Susie  came 
downstairs  and  began  to  talk  with  Dr.  Porhoet.  But 
they  spoke  in  a  low  tone  as  if  they  were  afraid  that 
someone  would  overhear.  They  were  faint  now  with 
want  of  food.  The  hours  went  one  by  one,  and  the 


THE  MAGICIAN  255 

striking  of  a  clock  filled  them  each  time  with  a 
mysterious  apprehension.  The  lights  in  the  village 
were  put  out  little  by  little,  and  everybody  slept. 
Susie  had  lighted  the  lamp,  and  they  watched 
beside  it.  A  cold  shiver  passed  through  her. 

"I  feel  as  though  someone  were  lying  dead  in  the 
room,"  she  said. 

"Why  does  not  Arthur  come?" 

They  spoke  inconsequently,  and  neither  heeded 
what  the  other  said.  The  window  was  open  wide, 
but  the  air  was  difficult  to  breathe.  And  now  the 
silence  was  so  unusual  that  Susie  grew  strangely 
nervous.  She  tried  to  think  of  the  noisy  streets  in 
Paris,  the  constant  roar  of  traffic,  and  the  shuffling 
of  the  crowd  towards  evening  as  the  working  people 
returned  to  their  homes.  She  stood  up. 

"There's  no  air  to-night.  Look  at  the  trees. 
Not  a  leaf  is  moving." 

"Why  does  not  Arthur  come?"  repeated  the 
doctor. 

"There's  no  moon  to-night.  It  will  be  very 
dark  at  Skene." 

"He's  walked  all  day.  He  should  be  here  by 
now." 

Susie  felt  an  extraordinary  oppression,  and  she 
panted  for  breath.  At  last  they  heard  a  step  on 
the  road  outside,  and  Arthur  stood  at  the  window. 

"Are  you  ready  to  come?"  he  said. 

"We've  been  waiting  for  you." 

They  joined  him,  bringing  the  few  things  that 
Dr.  Porhoet  had  said  were  necessary,  and  they 
walked  along  the  solitary  road  that  led  to  Skene. 


256  THE  MAGICIAN 

On  each  side  the  heather  stretched  into  the  dark 
night,  and  there  was  a  peculiar  blackness  about  it 
that  was  ominous.  There  was  no  sound  except 
that  of  their  own  steps.  Dimly,  under  the  stars, 
they  saw  the  desolation  with  which  they  were  sur- 
rounded. The  way  seemed  very  long.  They  were 
utterly  exhausted  now,  and  they  could  hardly  drag 
one  foot  after  the  other. 

"You  must  let  me  rest  for  a  minute/*  said  Susie 
at  last. 

They  did  not  answer,  but  stopped,  and  she  sat  on 
a  boulder  by  the  wayside.  They  stood  motionless 
in  front  of  her,  waiting  patiently  till  she  was 
ready.  After  a  little  while  she  forced  herself  to 
get  up. 

"Now  I  can  go,"  she  said. 

Still  they  did  not  speak,  but  walked  on.  They 
moved  like  figures  in  a  dream,  with  a  stealthy  direct- 
ness, as  though  they  acted  under  the  influence  of 
another's  will.  Suddenly  the  road  stopped,  and  they 
found  themselves  at  the  gates  of  Skene. 

"Follow  me  very  closely,"  said  Arthur. 

He  turned  on  one  side,  and  they  followed  a  paling. 
Susie  could  feel  that  they  walked  along  a  narrow 
path.  She  could  see  hardly  two  steps  in  front  of 
her.  At  last  he  stood  still. 

"I  came  here  earlier  in  the  night  and  made  the 
opening  easier  to  get  through." 

He  turned  back  a  broken  piece  of  railing  and 
slipped  in.  Susie  followed,  and  Dr.  Porhoet  entered 
after  her. 

"I  can  see  nothing,"  said  Susie. 


THE  MAGICIAN  257 

"Give  me  your  hand,  and  I  will  lead  you." 

They  walked  with  difficulty  through  the  tangled 
bracken,  among  closely  planted  trees.  They  stum- 
bled, and  once  Dr.  Porhoet  fell.  It  seemed  that  they 
went  a  long  way.  Susie's  heart  beat  fast  with 
anxiety.  All  her  weariness  was  now  forgotten. 

Then  Arthur  stopped  them,  and  he  pointed  in  front 
of  him.  Through  an  opening  in  the  trees  they  saw 
the  house.  All  the  windows  were  dark  except  those 
just  under  the  roof,  and  from  them  came  bright 
lights. 

"Those  are  the  attics  which  he  uses  as^a  laboratory. 
You  see,  he  is  working  now.  There  is  no  one  else 
in  the  house." 

Susie  was  curiously  fascinated  by  the  flaming 
lights.  There  was  an  awful  mystery  in  those  un- 
known labours  which  absorbed  Oliver  Haddo  night 
after  night  till  the  sun  rose.  What  horrible  things 
were  done  there,  hidden  from  the  eyes  of  men  ?  By 
himself  in  that  vast  house  the  madman  performed 
ghastly  experiments;  and  who  could  tell  what  dark 
secrets  he  trafficked  in? 

"There  is  no  danger  that  he  will  come  out," 
said  Arthur.  "He  remains  there  till  the  break  of 
day." 

He  took  her  hand  again  and  led  her  on.  Back 
they  went  among  the  trees,  and  presently  they  were 
on  a  pathway.  They  walked  along  with  greater 
safety. 

"Are  you  all  right,  Porhoet?"  asked  Arthur.! 

"Yes." 

But  the  trees  grew  thicker  and  the  night  more 


258  THE  MAGICIAN 

sombre.  Now  the  stars  were  shut  out,  and  they 
could  hardly  see  in  front  of  them. 

"Here  we  are,"  said  Arthur. 

They  stopped  and  found  that  there  was  in  front 
of  them  a  green  space  formed  by  four  cross-ways. 
In  the  middle  a  stone  bench  gleamed  vaguely  against 
the  darkness. 

"This  is  where  Margaret  sat  when  last  I  saw  her." 

"I  can  see  to  do  nothing  here,"  said  the  doctor. 

They  had  brought  two  flat  bowls  of  brass  to  serve 
as  censers,  and  these  Arthur  gave  to  Dr.  Porhoet. 
He  stood  by  Susie's  side  while  the  doctor  busied 
himself  with  his  preparations.  They  saw  him  move 
to  and  fro.  They  saw  him  bend  to  the  ground. 
Presently  there  was  a  crackling  of  wood,  and  from 
the  brazen  bowls  red  flames  shot  up.  They  did 
not  know  what  he  burnt,  but  there  were  heavy 
clouds  of  smoke,  and  a  strong,  aromatic  odour  filled 
the  air.  Now  and  again  the  doctor  was  sharply 
silhouetted  against  the  light.  His  slight,  bowed 
figure  was  singularly  mysterious.  When  Susie  caught 
sight  of  his  face  she  saw  that  it  was  touched  with  a 
strong  emotion.  The  work  he  was  at  affected  him 
so  that  his  doubts,  his  fears,  had  vanished.  He 
looked  like  some  old  alchemist  busied  with  un- 
natural things.  Susie's  heart  began  to  beat  pain- 
fully. She  was  growing  desperately  frightened  and 
stretched  out  her  hand  so  that  she  might  touch 
Arthur.  Silently  he  put  his  arm  through  hers. 
And  now  the  doctor  was  tracing  strange  signs  upon 
the  ground.  The  flames  died  down  and  only  a  glow 
remained,  but  he  seemed  to  have  no  difficulty  in 


THE  MAGICIAN  259 

seeing  what  he  was  about.  Susie  could  not  discern 
what  figures  he  drew.  Then  he  put  more  twigs 
upon  the  braziers,  and  the  flames  sprang  up  once 
more,  cutting  the  darkness  sharply  as  with  a  sword. 

"Now  come,"  he  said. 

But  inexplicably  a  sudden  terror  seized  Susie. 
She  felt  that  the  hairs  of  her  head  stood  up,  and  a 
cold  sweat  broke  out  on  her  body.  Her  limbs  had 
grown  on  an  instant  inconceivably  heavy,  so  that 
she  could  not  move.  A  panic  such  as  she  had  never 
known  came  upon  her,  and,  except  that  her  legs 
would  not  carry  her,  she  would  have  fled  blindly. 
She  began  violently  to  tremble.  She  tried  to  speak, 
but  her  tongue  clave  to  her  throat. 

"I  can't,  Pm  afraid,"  she  muttered  hoarsely. 

"You  must.  Without  you  we  can  do  nothing," 
said  Arthur. 

She  could  not  reason  with  herself.  She  had  for- 
gotten everything  except  that  she  was  frightened  to 
death.  Her  heart  was  beating  so  quickly  that  she 
almost  fainted.  And  now  Arthur  held  her,  so  firmly 
that  she  winced. 

"Let  me  go,"  she  whispered.  "I  won't  help  you. 
I'm  afraid." 

"You  must,"  he  said.     "You  must." 

"No." 

"I  tell  you,  you  must  come." 

"Why?" 

Her  deadly  fear  expressed  itself  in  a  passion  of 
sudden  anger. 

"Because  you  love  me,  and  it's  the  only  way  to 
give  me  peace." 


260  THE  MAGICIAN 

She  uttered  a  low  wail  of  pain,  and  her  terror 
gave  way  to  shame.  She  blushed  to  the  roots  of 
her  hair  because  he  too  knew  her  secret.  And  then 
she  was  seized  again  with  violent  anger  because  he 
had  the  cruelty  to  taunt  her  with  it.  She  had  re- 
covered her  courage  now,  and  she  stepped  forward. 
Dr.  Porhoet  told  her  where  to  stand.  Arthur  took 
his  place  in  front  of  her. 

"You  must  not  move  till  I  give  you  leave.  If 
you  go  outside  the  figure  I  have  drawn,  I  cannot 
protect  you." 

For  a  moment  Dr.  Porhoet  stood  in  perfect  silence. 
Then  he  began  to  recite  strange  words  in  Latin. 
Susie  heard  him  but  vaguely.  She  did  not  know  the 
sense,  and  his  voice  was  so  low  that  she  could  not 
have  distinguished  the  words.  But  his  intonation 
had  lost  that  gentle  irony  which  was  habitual  to  him, 
and  he  spoke  with  a  trembling  gravity  that  was 
extraordinarily  impressive.  Arthur  stood  immobile 
as  a  rock.  The  flames  died  away,  and  they  saw  one 
another  only  by  the  glow  of  the  ashes,  dimly,  like 
persons  in  a  vision  of  death.  There  was  silence. 
Then  the  necromancer  spoke  again,  and  now  his 
voice  was  louder.  He  seemed  to  utter  weird  invo- 
cations, but  they  were  in  a  tongue  that  the  others 
knew  not.  And  while  he  spoke  the  light  from  the 
burning  cinders  on  a  sudden  went  out. 

It  did  not  die,  but  was  sharply  extinguished  as 
though  by  invisible  hands.  And  now  the  darkness 
was  more  sombre  than  that  of  the  blackest  night. 
The  trees  that  surrounded  them  were  hidden  from 
their  eyes,  and  the  whiteness  of  the  stone  bench  was 


THE  MAGICIAN  261 

seen  no  longer.  They  stood  but  a  little  way  one 
from  the  other,  but  each  might  have  stood  alone. 
Susie  strained  her  eyes,  but  she  could  see  nothing. 
She  looked  up  quickly;  the  stars  were  gone  out,  and 
she  could  see  no  further  over  her  head  than  round 
about.  The  darkness  was  terrifying.  And  from  it 
the  voice  that  spoke  slowly  had  a  ghastly  effect. 
It  stemed  to  come,  wonderfully  changed,  from  the 
void  of  bottomless  chaos.  Susie  clenched  her  hands 
so  that  she  might  not  faint. 

All  at  once  she  started,  for  the  old  man's  voice 
was  cut  by  a  sudden  gust  of  wind.  A  moment  before 
the  utter  silence  had  been  almost  intolerable,  and 
now  a  storm  seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  them. 
The  trees  all  round  them  rocked  in  the  wind;  they 
heard  the  branches  creak;  and  they  heard  the  hiss- 
ing of  the  leaves.  They  were  in  the  midst  of  a 
hurricane.  And  they  felt  the  earth  sway  as  it  re- 
sisted the  straining  roots  of  great  trees,  which  seemed 
to  be  dragged  up  by  the  force  of  the  furious  gale. 
Whistling  and  roaring  the  wind  stormed  all  about 
them,  and  the  doctor,  raising  his  voice,  tried  in  vain 
to  command  it.  But  the  strangest  thing  of  all  was 
that  where  they  stood  there  was  no  sign  of  the  raging 
blast.  The  air  immediately  about  them  was  as  still 
as  it  had  been  before,  and  not  a  hair  on  Susie's  head 
was  moved.  And  it  was  terrible  to  hear  the  tumult, 
and  yet  to  be  in  a  calm  that  was  almost  unnatural. 

On  a  sudden,  Dr.  Porhoet  raised  his  voice,  and 
with  a  sternness  they  had  never  heard  in  it  before, 
cried  out  in  that  unknown  language.  Then  he  called 
upon  Margaret.  He  called  her  name  three  times. 


262  THE  MAGICIAN 

In  the  uproar  Susie  could  scarcely  hear.  Terror  had 
seized  her  again,  but  in  her  confusion  she  remem- 
bered his  command,  and  she  dared  not  move. 

"Margaret,  Margaret,  Margaret." 

Without  a  pause  between,  as  quickly  as  a  stone 
falls  to  the  ground,  the  din  which  was  all  about 
them,  ceased.  There  was  no  gradual  diminution. 
But  at  one  moment  there  was  a  roaring  hurricane 
and  at  the  next  a  silence  so  complete  that  it  might 
have  been  the  silence  of  death. 

And  then,  seeming  to  come  out  of  nothingness, 
extraordinarily,  they  heard  with  a  curious  distinct- 
ness the  sound  of  a  woman  weeping.  Susie's  heart 
stood  still.  They  heard  the  sound  ot  a  woman 
weeping,  and  they  recognised  the  voice  of  Mar- 
garet. A  groan  of  anguish  burst  from  Arthur's  lips, 
and  he  was  on  the  point  of  starting  forward.  But 
quickly  Dr.  Porhoet  put  out  his  hand  to  prevent 
him.  The  sound  was  heartrending,  the  sobbing  of 
a  woman  who  had  lost  all  hope,  the  sobbing  of  a 
woman  terrified.  If  Susie  had  been  able  to  stir  she 
would  have  put  her  hands  to  her  ears  to  shut  out 
the  ghastly  agony  of  it. 

And  in  a  moment,  notwithstanding  the  heavy 
darkness  of  the  starless  night,  Arthur  saw  her.  She 
was  seated  on  the  stone  bench  as  when  last  he  had 
spoken  with  her.  In  her  anguish  she  sought  not 
to  hide  her  face.  She  looked  at  the  ground,  and  the 
tears  fell  down  her  cheeks.  Her  bosom  heaved 
with  the  pain  of  her  weeping. 

Then  Arthur  knew  that  all  his  suspicions  were  true. 


Chapter  XVI 

ARTHUR  would  not  leave  the  little  village  of 
Yenning.  Neither  Susie  nor  the  doctor  could 
get  him  to  make  any  decision.  None  of  them  spoke 
of  the  night  which  they  had  spent  in  the  woods  of 
Skene;  but  it  coloured  all  their  thoughts,  and  they 
were  not  free  for  a  single  moment  from  the  ghastly 
memory  of  it.  They  seemed  still  to  hear  the  sound 
of  that  passionate  weeping.  Arthur  was  moody. 
When  he  was  with  them  he  spoke  little;  he  opposed 
a  stubborn  resistance  to  their  efforts  at  diverting  his 
mind.  He  spent  long  hours  by  himself,  in  the 
country,  and  they  had  no  idea  what  he  did.  Susie 
was  terribly  anxious.  He  had  lost  his  balance  so 
completely  that  she  was  prepared  for  any  rashness. 
She  divined  that  his  hatred  of  Haddo  was  no  longer 
within  the  bounds  of  reason.  The  desire  for  ven- 
geance filled  him  entirely,  so  that  he  was  capable  of 
any  violence. 

Several  days  went  by. 

At  last,  in  concert  with  Dr.  Porhoet,  she  deter- 
mined to  make  one  more  attempt.  It  was  late  at 
night,  and  they  sat  with  open  windows  in  the  sit- 
ting-room of  the  inn.  There  was  a  singular  op- 
pressiveness in  the  air  which  suggested  that  a 
thunderstorm  was  at  hand.  Susie  prayed  for  it; 

263 


264  THE  MAGICIAN 

for  she  ascribed  to  the  peculiar  heat  of  the  last  few 
days  much  of  Arthur's  sullen  irritability. 

"Arthur,  you  must  tell  us  what  you  are  going  to 
do/'  she  said.  "It  is  useless  to  stay  here.  We  are 
all  so  ill  and  nervous  that  we  cannot  consider  any- 
thing rationally.  We  want  you  to  come  away  with 
us  to-morrow." 

"You  can  go  if  you  choose,"  he  said.  "I  shall 
remain  till  that  man  is  dead." 

"It  is  madness  to  talk  like  that.  You  can  do 
nothing.  You  are  only  making  yourself  worse  by 
staying  here." 

"I  have  quite  made  up  my  mind." 

"The  law  can  offer  you  no  help,  and  what  else 
can  you  do?" 

She  asked  the  question,  meaning  if  possible  to 
get  from  him  some  hint  of  his  intentions;  but  the 
grimness  of  his  answer,  though  it  only  confirmed 
her  vague  suspicions,  startled  her. 

"If  I  can  do  nothing  else  I  shall  shoot  him  like 
a  dog." 

She  could  think  of  nothing  to  say,  and  for  a 
while  they  remained  in  silence.  Then  he  got  up. 

"I  think  I  should  prefer  it  if  you  went,"  he  said. 
"You  can  only  hamper  me." 

"I  shall  stay  here  as  long  as  you  do." 

"Why?" 

"Because  if  you  do  anything  I  shall  be  compro- 
mised. I  may  be  arrested.  I  think  the  fear  of  that 
may  restrain  you." 

He  looked  at  her  steadily.  She  met  his  eyes  with 
a  calmness  which  showed  that  she  meant  exactly 


THE  MAGICIAN  265 

what  she  said,  and  he  turned  uneasily  away.  A 
silence  even  greater  than  before  fell  upon  them. 
They  did  not  move.  It  was  so  still  in  the  room  that 
it  might  have  been  quite  empty.  The  breathlessness 
of  the  air  increased,  so  that  it  was  horribly  op- 
pressive. Suddenly  there  was  a  loud  rattle  of  thun- 
der, and  a  flash  of  lightning  tore  across  the  heavy 
clouds.  Susie  thanked  Heaven  for  the  storm  which 
would  give  presently  a  welcome  freshness.  She  felt 
excessively  ill  at  ease,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  ascribe 
her  sensation  to  a  state  of  the  atmosphere.  Again 
the  thunder  rolled.  It  was  so  loud  that  it  seemed 
to  be  immediately  above  their  heads.  And  the 
wind  rose  suddenly  and  swept  with  a  long  moan 
through  the  trees  that  surrounded  the  house.  It 
was  a  sound  so  human  that  it  might  have  come  from 
the  souls  of  dead  men  suffering  hopeless  torments  of 
regret. 

The  lamp  went  out,  so  suddenly  that  Susie  was 
vaguely  frightened.  It  gave  one  flicker,  and  they 
were  in  total  darkness.  It  seemed  as  though  some- 
one had  leaned  over  the  chimney  and  blown  it  out. 
The  night  was  very  black,  and  they  could  not  see 
the  window  which  opened  on  to  the  country.  The 
darkness  was  so  peculiar  that  for  a  moment  no  one 
stirred. 

Then  Susie  heard  Dr.  Porhoet  slip  his  hand 
across  the  table  to  find  matches,  but  it  seemed 
that  they  were  not  there.  Again  a  loud  peal  of 
thunder  startled  them,  but  the  rain  would  not  fall. 
They  panted  for  fresh  air.  On  a  sudden  Susie's 
heart  gave  a  bound,  and  she  sprang  up. 


266  THE  MAGICIAN 

"There's  someone  in  the  room." 

The  words  were  no  sooner  out  of  her  mouth  than 
she  heard  Arthur  fling  himself  upon  the  intruder. 
She  knew  at  once,  with  the  certainty  of  an  intui- 
tion, that  it  was  Haddo.  But  how  had  he  come 
in?  What  did  he  want?  She  tried  to  cry  out,  but 
no  sound  came  from  her  throat.  Dr.  Porhoet  seemed 
bound  to  his  chair.  He  did  not  move.  He  made  no 
sound.  She  knew  that  an  awful  struggle  was  pro- 
ceeding. It  was  a  struggle  to  the  death  between 
two  men  who  hated  one  another,  but  the  most  ter- 
rible part  of  it  was  that  nothing  was  heard.  They 
were  perfectly  noiseless.  She  tried  to  do  something, 
but  she  could  not  stir.  And  Arthur's  heart  exulted, 
for  his  enemy  was  in  his  grasp,  under  his  hands,  and 
he  would  not  let  him  go  while  life  was  in  him.  He 
clenched  his  teeth  and  tightened  his  straining 
muscles.  Susie  heard  his  laboured  breathing,  but 
she  only  heard  the  breathing  of  one  man.  She  won- 
dered in  abject  terror  what  that  could  mean.  They 
struggled  silently,  hand  to  hand,  and  Arthur  knew 
that  his  strength  was  greater.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  what  to  do  and  directed  all  his  energy  to  a 
definite  end.  His  enemy  was  extraordinarily  power- 
ful, but  Arthur  appeared  to  create  strength  from  the 
sheer  force  of  his  will.  It  seemed  for  hours  that  they 
struggled.  He  could  not  bear  him  down. 

Suddenly  he  knew  that  the  other  was  frightened 
and  sought  to  escape  from  him.  Arthur  tightened 
his  grasp;  for  nothing  in  the  world  now  would  he 
ever  loosen  his  hold.  He  took  a  deep,  quick  breath, 
and  then  put  out  all  his  strength  in  a  tremendous 


THE  MAGICIAN  267 

effort.  They  swayed  from  side  to  side.  Arthur 
felt  as  if  his  muscles  were  being  torn  from  the  bones, 
he  could  not  continue  for  more  than  a  moment 
longer;  but  the  agony  that  flashed  across  his  mind 
at  the  thought  of  failure  braced  him  to  a  sudden 
angry  jerk.  All  at  once  Haddo  collapsed,  and  they 
fell  heavily  to  the  ground.  Arthur  was  breathing 
more  quickly  now.  He  thought  that  if  he  could 
keep  on  for  one  instant  longer,  he  would  be  safe. 
He  threw  all  his  weight  on  the  form  that  rolled 
beneath  him,  and  bore  down  furiously  on  the  man's 
arm.  He  twisted  it  sharply,  with  all  his  might,  and 
felt  it  give  way.  He  gave  a  low  cry  of  triumph; 
the  arm  was  broken.  And  now  his  enemy  was 
seized  with  panic;  he  struggled  madly,  he  wanted 
only  to  get  away  from  those  long  hands  that  were 
killing  him.  They  seemed  to  be  of  iron.  Arthur 
seized  the  huge  bullock  throat  and  dug  his  fingers 
into  it,  and  they  sunk  in  the  heavy  rolls  of  fat;  and 
he  flung  the  whole  weight  of  his  body  into  them. 
He  exulted,  for  he  knew  that  his  enemy  was  in  his 
power  at  last;  he  was  strangling  him,  strangling  the 
life  out  of  him.  He  wanted  light  so  that  he  might 
see  the  horror  of  that  vast  face,  and  the  deadly  fear, 
and  the  starting  eyes.  And  still  he  pressed  with 
those  iron  hands.  And  now  the  movements  were 
strangely  convulsive.  His  victim  writhed  with  the 
agony  of  death.  His  struggles  were  desperate,  but 
the  avenging  hands  held  him  as  in  a  vice.  And  then 
the  movements  grew  utterly  spasmodic,  and  then 
they  grew  weaker.  Still  the  hands  pressed  upon 
the  gigantic  throat,  and  Arthur  forgot  everything. 


268  THE  MAGICIAN 

He  was  mad  with  rage  and  fury  and  hate  and  sorrow. 
He  thought  of  Margaret's  anguish  and  of  her  fiendish 
torture,  and  he  wished  the  man  had  ten  lives  so  that 
he  might  take  them  one  by  one.  And  at  last  all  was 
still,  and  that  vast  mass  of  flesh  was  motionless,  and 
he  knew  that  his  enemy  was  dead.  He  loosened  his 
grasp  and  slipped  one  hand  over  the  heart.  It  would 
never  beat  again.  The  man  was  stone  dead.  Arthur 
got  up  and  straightened  himself.  The  darkness  was 
intense  still,  and  he  could  see  nothing.  Susie  heard 
him,  and  at  length  she  was  able  to  speak. 

"Arthur,  what  have  you  done?" 

"I've  killed  him,"  he  said  hoarsely. 

"O  God,  what  shall  we  do?" 

Arthur  began  to  laugh  aloud,  hysterically,  and  in 
the  darkness  his  hilarity  was  terrifying. 

"For  God's  sake  let  us  have  some  light." 

"I've  found  the  matches,"  said  Dr.  Porhoet. 

He  seemed  to  awake  suddenly  from  his  long 
stupor.  He  struck  one,  and  it  would  not  light.  He 
struck  another,  and  Susie  took  off  the  globe  and 
the  chimney  as  he  kindled  the  wick.  Then  he  held 
up  the  lamp,  and  they  saw  Arthur  looking  at  them. 
His  face  was  ghastly.  The  sweat  ran  off  his  fore- 
head in  great  beads,  and  his  eyes  were  bloodshot. 
He  trembled  in  every  limb.  Then  Dr.  Porhoet  ad- 
vanced with  the  lamp  and  held  it  forward.  They 
looked  down  on  the  floor  for  the  man  who  lay  there 
dead.  Susie  gave  a  sudden  cry  of  horror. 

There  was  no  one  there. 

Arthur  stepped  back  in  terrified  surprise.  There 
was  no  one  in  the  room,  living  or  dead,  but  the 


THE  MAGICIAN  269 

three  friends.  The  ground  sank  under  Susie's  feet, 
she  felt  horribly  ill,  and  she  fainted.  When  she 
awoke,  seeming  difficultly  to  emerge  from  an  eternal 
night,  Arthur  was  holding  down  her  head. 

"Bend  down,"  he  said.     "Bend  down." 

All  that  had  happened  came  back  to  her,  and  she 
burst  into  tears.  Her  self-control  deserted  her, 
and,  clinging  to  him  for  protection,  she  sobbed  as 
though  her  heart  would  break.  She  was  shaken 
from  head  to  foot.  The  strangeness  of  this  last  hor- 
ror had  overcome  her,  and  she  could  have  shrieked 
with  fright. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  said.  "You  need  not  be 
afraid." 

"Oh,  what  does  it  mean?" 

"You  must  pluck  up  courage.  We're  going  now 
to  Skene." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  as  though  to  get  away  from 
him;  her  heart  beat  wildly. 

"No,  I  can't;  I'm  frightened." 

"We  must  see  what  it  means.  We  have  no  time 
to  lose,  or  the  morning  will  be  upon  us  before  we 
get  back." 

Then  she  sought  to  prevent  him. 

"Oh,  for  God's  sake,  don't  go,  Arthur.  Some- 
thing awful  may  await  you  there.  Don't  risk  your 
life." 

"There  is  no  danger.    I  tell  you  the  man  is  dead." 

"If  anything  happened  to  you  .  .  ." 

She  stopped,  trying  to  restrain  her  sobs;  she  dared 
not  go  on.  But  he  seemed  to  know  what  was  in  her 
mind. 


270  THE  MAGICIAN 

"I  will  take  no  risks  because  of  you.  I  know  that 
whether  I  live  or  die  is  not — a  matter  of  indifference 
to  you." 

She  looked  up  and  saw  that  his  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  her  gravely.  She  reddened.  A  curious  feeling 
came  into  her  heart. 

"I  will  go  with  you  wherever  you  choose,"  she 
said  humbly. 

"Come  then." 

They  stepped  out  into  the  night.  And  now,  with- 
out rain,  the  storm  had  passed  away,  and  the  stars 
were  shining.  They  walked  quickly.  Arthur  went 
in  front  of  them.  Dr.  Porhoet  and  Susie  followed 
him,  side  by  side,  and  they  had  to  hasten  their  steps 
in  order  not  to  be  left  behind.  It  seemed  to  them 
that  the  horror  of  the  night  was  passed,  and  there 
was  a  fragrancy  in  the  air  which  was  curiously  re- 
freshing. The  sky  was  very  beautiful.  And  at  last 
they  came  to  Skene.  Arthur  led  them  again  to  the 
opening  in  the  palisade,  and  he  took  Susie's  hand. 
Presently  they  stood  in  the  place  from  which  a  few 
days  before  they  had  seen  the  house.  As  then  it 
stood  in  massive  blackness  against  the  night,  and  as 
then  the  attic  windows  shone  out  with  brilliant  lights. 
Susie  started,  for  she  had  expected  that  the  whole 
place  would  be  in  darkness. 

"There  is  no  danger,  I  promise  you,"  said  Arthur 
gently.  "We  are  going  to  find  out  the  meaning  of 
all  this  mystery." 

He  began  to  walk  towards  the  house. 

"Have  you  a  weapon  of  some  sort?"  asked  the 
doctor. 


THE  MAGICIAN  271 

Arthur  handed  him  a  revolver. 

"Take  this.  It  will  reassure  you,  but  you  will 
have  no  need  of  it.  I  bought  it  the  other  day  when 
— I  had  other  plans." 

Susie  gave  a  little  shudder.  They  reached  the 
drive  and  walked  to  the  great  portico  which  adorned 
the  fajade  of  the  house.  Arthur  tried  the  handle, 
but  it  would  not  open. 

"Will  you  wait  here?"  he  said.  "I  can  get  through 
one  of  the  windows,  and  I  will  let  you  in." 

He  left  them.  They  stood  quietly  there,  with 
anxious  hearts;  they  could  not  guess  what  they 
would  see.  They  were  afraid  that  something  would 
happen  to  Arthur,  and  Susie  regretted  that  she  had 
not  insisted  on  going  with  him.  Suddenly  she  re- 
membered that  awful  moment  when  the  light  of  the 
lamp  had  been  thrown  where  all  expected  to  see  a 
body,  and  there  was  nothing. 

"What  do  you  think  it  meant?"  she  cried  sud- 
denly. "What  is  the  explanation?" 

"Perhaps  we  shall  see  now,"  answered  the  doctor. 

Arthur  still  lingered,  and  she  could  not  imagine 
what  had  become  of  him.  All  sorts  of  horrible 
fancies  passed  through  her  mind,  and  she  dreaded 
she  knew  not  what.  At  last  they  heard  a  footstep 
inside  the  house,  and  the  door  was  opened. 

"I  was  convinced  that  nobody  slept  here,  but  I 
was  obliged  to  make  sure.  I  had  some  difficulty  in 
getting  in." 

Susie  hesitated  to  enter.  She  did  not  know  what 
horrors  awaited  her,  and  the  darkness  was  terrifying. 

"I  cannot  see,"  she  said. 


THE  MAGICIAN 

"I've  brought  a  lantern/'  said  Arthur. 

He  pressed  a  button,  and  a  narrow  ray  of  bright 
light  was  cast  upon  the  floor.  Dr.  Porhoet  and 
Susie  went  in.  Arthur  carefully  closed  the  door, 
and  flashed  the  light  of  his  lamp  all  round  them. 
They  stood  in  a  large  hall,  the  floor  of  which  was 
scattered  with  the  skins  of  lions  that  Haddo  on  his 
celebrated  expedition  had  killed  in  Africa.  There 
were  perhaps  a  dozen,  and  their  number  gave  a  wild, 
barbaric  note.  In  front  of  them  a  great  oak  staircase 
led  to  the  upper  floors. 

"We  must  go  through  all  the  rooms,"  said  Arthur. 

He  did  not  expect  to  find  Haddo  till  they  came 
to  the  lighted  attics,  but  it  seemed  needful  neverthe- 
less to  pass  right  through  the  house  on  their  way. 
A  flash  of  his  lantern  had  shown  him  that  the  walls 
of  the  hall  were  decorated  with  all  manner  of  armour, 
ancient  swords  of  Eastern  handiwork,  barbaric  weap- 
ons from  central  Africa,  savage  implements  of  mediae- 
val warfare;  and  an  idea  came  to  him.  He  took 
down  a  huge  battle-axe  and  swung  it  in  his  hand. 

"Now  come." 

Silently,  holding  their  breath  as  though  they 
feared  to  wake  the  dead,  they  went  into  the  first 
room.  They  saw  it  difficultly  with  their  scant  light, 
since  the  thin  shaft  of  brilliancy,  emphasising  acutely 
the  surrounding  darkness,  revealed  it  only  piece 
by  piece.  It  was  a  large  room,  evidently  unused, 
for  the  furniture  was  covered  with  holland,  and 
there  was  a  mustiness  about  it  which  suggested 
that  the  windows  were  seldom  opened.  As  in  many 
old  houses  the  rooms  led  not  from  a  passage  but 


THE  MAGICIAN  278 

into  one  another,  and  they  walked  through  many 
till  they  came  back  into  the  hall.  They  had  all  a 
desolate,  uninhabited  air.  Their  sombreness  was 
increased  by  the  oak  with  which  they  were  pannelled. 
There  was  pannelling  in  the  hall  too,  and  on  the 
stairs  that  led  broadly  to  the  top  of  the  house.  As 
they  ascended  Arthur  stopped  for  one  moment  and 
passed  his  hand  over  the  polished  wood. 

"It  would  burn  like  tinder,"  he  said. 

They  went  through  the  rooms  on  the  first  floor, 
and  they  were  as  empty  and  as  cheerless.  Presently 
they  came  to  that  which  had  been  Margaret's. 
In  a  bowl  were  dead  flowers.  Her  brushes  were  still 
on  the  toilet  table.  But  it  was  a  gloomy  chamber, 
with  its  dark  oak,  and  so  comfortless  that  Susie 
shuddered.  Arthur  stood  for  a  time  and  looked  at 
it,  but  he  said  nothing.  They  found  themselves 
again  on  the  stairs  and  they  went  to  the  second 
story.  But  here  they  seemed  to  be  at  the  top  of  the 
house. 

"How  does  one  get  up  to  the  attics?"  said  Arthur, 
looking  about  him  with  surprise. 

He  paused  for  a  while  to  think.  Then  he  nodded 
his  head. 

"There  must  be  some  steps  leading  out  of  one  of 
the  rooms." 

They  went  on.  And  now  the  ceilings  were  much 
lower,  with  heavy  beams,  and  there  was  no  furniture 
at  all.  The  emptiness  seemed  to  make  everything 
more  terrifying.  They  felt  that  they  were  on  the 
threshold  of  a  great  mystery,  and  Susie's  heart  began 
to  beat  very  fast.  Arthur  conducted  his  examina- 


274  THE  MAGICIAN 

tion  with  the  greatest  method;  he  walked  round 
each  room  carefully,  looking  for  a  door  that  might 
lead  to  a  staircase;  but  there  was  no  sign  of  one. 

"What  will  you  do  if  you  can't  find  the  way  up?" 
asked  Susie. 

"I  shall  find  the  way  up,"  he  answered. 

They  came  to  the  staircase  once  more  and  had 
discovered  nothing.  They  looked  at  one  another 
helplessly. 

"It's  quite  clear  there  is  a  way,"  said  Arthur,  with 
impatience.  "There  must  be  something  in  the  na- 
ture of  a  hidden  door  somewhere  or  other." 

He  leaned  against  the  balustrade  and  meditated. 
The  light  of  his  lantern  threw  a  narrow  ray  upon  the 
opposite  wall. 

"I  feel  certain  it  must  be  in  one  of  the  rooms  at  the 
end  of  the  house.  That  seems  the  most  natural 
place  to  put  a  means  of  ascent  to  the  attics." 

They  went  back,  and  again  he  examined  the  pan- 
nelling  of  a  small  room  that  had  outside  walls  on 
three  sides  of  it.  It  was  the  only  one  that  did  not 
lead  into  another. 

"It  must  be  here,"  he  said. 

Presently  he  gave  a  little  laugh,  for  he  saw  that 
a  small  door  was  concealed  by  the  woodwork.  He 
pressed  it  where  he  thought  there  might  be  a  spring, 
and  it  flew  open.  Their  lantern  showed  them  a 
narrow  wooden  staircase.  They  walked  up  and 
found  themselves  in  front  of  a  door.  Arthur  tried 
it,  but  it  was  locked.  He  smiled  grimly. 

"Will  you  get  back  a  little,"  he  said. 

He  lifted  his  axe  and  swung  it  down  upon  the 


THE  MAGICIAN  275 

latch.  The  handle  was  shattered,  but  the  lock  did 
not  yield.  He  shook  his  head.  As  he  paused  for 
a  moment,  and  there  was  complete  silence,  Susie 
distinctly  heard  a  slight  noise.  She  put  her  hand 
on  Arthur's  arm  to  call  his  attention  to  it,  and  with 
strained  ears  they  listened.  There  was  something 
alive  on  the  other  side  of  that  door.  They  heard  a 
curious  sound :  it  was  not  that  of  a  human  voice,  it 
was  not  the  crying  of  an  animal,  it  was  extraordinary. 

It  was  a  sort  of  gibber,  hoarse  and  rapid,  and  it 
filled  them  with  an  icy  terror  because  it  was  so 
weird  and  so  unnatural. 

"Come  away,  Arthur,"  said  Susie.    "Come  away." 

"There's  some  living  thing  in  there,"  he  answered. 

He  did  not  know  why  the  sound  horrified  him. 
The  sweat  broke  out  on  his  forehead. 

"Something  awful  will  happen  to  us,"  whispered 
Susie,  shaking  with  uncontrollable  fear. 

"The  only  thing  is  to  break  the  door  down." 

The  horrid  gibbering  was  drowned  by  the  noise 
he  made.  Quickly,  without  pausing,  he  began  to 
hack  at  the  oak  door  with  all  his  might.  In  rapid 
succession  his  heavy  blows  rained  down,  and  the 
sound  echoed  through  the  empty  house.  There  was 
a  crash,  and  the  door  swung  back.  They  had  been 
so  long  in  almost  total  darkness  that  they  were 
blinded  for  an  instant  by  the  dazzling  light.  And 
then  instinctively  they  started  back,  for,  as  the  door 
opened,  a  wave  of  heat  came  out  upon  them  so  that 
they  could  hardly  breathe.  The  place  was  like  an 
oven. 

They  entered.     It  was  lit  by  enormous  lamps  the 


£76  THE  MAGICIAN 

light  of  which  was  increased  by  reflectors,  and 
warmed  by  a  great  furnace.  They  could  not  un- 
derstand why  so  intense  a  heat  was  necessary.  The 
narrow  windows  were  closed.  Dr.  Porhoet  caught 
sight  of  a  thermometer  and  was  astounded  at  the 
temperature  it  indicated.  The  room  was  used  evi- 
dently as  a  laboratory.  On  broad  tables  were  test- 
tubes,  basins  and  baths  of  white  porcelain,  measur- 
ing-glasses, and  utensils  of  all  sorts;  but  the  surpris- 
ing thing  was  the  great  scale  upon  which  everything 
was.  Neither  Arthur  nor  Dr.  Porhoet  had  ever 
seen  such  gigantic  measures  nor  such  large  test- 
tubes.  There  were  rows  of  bottles,  like  those  in 
the  dispensary  of  a  hospital,  each  containing  great 
quantities  of  a  different  chemical.  The  three  friends 
stood  in  silence.  The  emptiness  of  the  room  con- 
trasted so  oddly  with  its  appearance  of  being  in 
immediate  use  that  it  was  uncanny.  Susie  felt 
that  he  who  worked  there  was  in  the  midst  of  his 
labours,  and  might  return  at  any  moment;  he  could 
only  have  gone  for  an  instant  into  another  cham- 
ber in  order  to  see  the  progress  of  some  experi- 
ment. It  was  quite  silent.  Whatever  had  made 
those  vague,  unearthly  noises  was  hushed  by  their 
approach. 

The  door  was  closed  between  this  room  and  the 
next.  Arthur  opened  it,  and  they  found  themselves 
in  a  long,  low  attic,  ceiled  with  great  rafters,  as 
brilliantly  lit  and  as  hot  as  the  first.  Here  too 
were  broad  tables  laden  with  retorts,  instruments 
for  heating,  huge  test-tubes,  and  all  manner  of  ves- 
sels. The  furnace  that  warmed  it  gave  a  very 


THE  MAGICIAN  277 

steady  but  extreme  heat.  Arthur's  gaze  travelled 
slowly  from  table  to  table,  and  he  wondered  what 
Haddo's  experiments  had  really  been.  The  air  was 
heavy  with  an  extraordinary  odour:  it  was  not 
musty  like  that  of  the  closed  rooms  through  which 
they  had  passed,  but  singularly  pungent,  disagree- 
able and  sickly.  He  asked  himself  what  it  could 
spring  from.  Then  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  huge  re- 
ceptacle that  stood  on  the  table  nearest  to  the  fur- 
nace. It  was  covered  with  a  white  cloth.  He 
went  up  to  it  and  took  this  off.  The  vessel  was 
about  four  feet  high,  round,  and  shaped  somewhat 
like  a  washing  tub,  but  it  was  made  of  glass  more 
than  an  inch  thick.  In  it  was  a  spherical  mass,  a 
little  larger  than  a  football,  of  a  peculiar,  livid  col- 
our. The  surface  was  smooth,  but  rather  coarsely 
grained,  and  over  it  ran  a  dense  system  of  blood- 
vessels. It  reminded  the  two  medical  men  of  those 
huge  tumours  which  are  preserved  in  spirit  in  hos- 
pital museums.  Susie  looked  at  it  with  an  incom- 
prehensible disgust.  Suddenly  she  gave  a  cry. 

"Good  God,  it's  moving !" 

Arthur  put  his  hand  on  her  arm  quickly  to  quieten 
her  and  bent  down  with  irresistible  curiosity.  They 
saw  that  it  was  a  mass  of  flesh,  but  of  some  strange, 
horrible  flesh  unlike  that  of  any  human  being;  and 
it  pulsated  regularly.  The  movement  was  quite 
distinct,  up  and  down,  like  the  delicate  heaving  of 
a  woman's  breast  when  she  is  asleep.  Arthur 
touched  the  thing  with  one  finger  and  it  shrank 
slightly. 

"It's  quite  warm,'5  he  said. 


278  THE  MAGICIAN 

He  turned  it  over,  and  it  remained  in  the  posi- 
tion in  which  he  had  placed  it,  as  if  there  were 
neither  top  nor  bottom  to  it.  But  they  could  see 
now,  irregularly  placed  on  one  side,  a  few  short 
hairs.  They  were  just  like  human  hairs. 

"Is  it  alive ?"  whispered  Susie,  struck  with  horror 
and  amazement. 

"Yes!" 

Arthur  seemed  fascinated.  He  could  not  take  his 
eyes  off  the  loathsome  thing.  He  watched  it  slowly 
heave  with  even  motion. 

"What  can  it  mean?"  he  asked. 

He  looked  at  Dr.  Porhoet  with  pale  and  startled 
face.  A  thought  was  coming  to  him,  but  a  thought 
so  unnatural,  extravagant,  and  terrible,  that  he 
pushed  it  from  him  with  a  movement  of  both  hands, 
as  though  it  were  a  material  thing.  Then  all  three 
turned  around  abruptly  with  a  start,  for  they  heard 
again  the  wild  gibbering  which  had  first  shocked 
their  ears.  In  the  wonder  of  this  revolting  object 
they  had  forgotten  all  the  rest.  The  sound  seemed 
extraordinarily  near,  and  Susie  drew  back  instinc- 
tively, for  it  appeared  to  come  from  her  very  side. 

"There's  nothing  here/'  said  Arthur.  "It  must 
be  in  the  next  room." 

"Oh,  Arthur,  let  us  go,"  cried  Susie.  "I'm 
afraid  to  see  what  may  be  in  store  for  us.  It  is 
nothing  to  us,  and  what  we  see  may  poison  our 
sleep  for  ever." 

She  looked  appealingly  at  Dr.  Porhoet.  He  was 
white  and  anxious.  The  heat  of  that  place  had 
made  the  sweat  break  out  on  his  forehead. 


THE  MAGICIAN  279 

"I  have  seen  enough.  I  want  to  see  no  more/* 
he  said. 

"Then  you  may  go,  both  of  you/'  answered 
Arthur.  "I  do  not  wish  to  force  you  to  see  any- 
thing. But  I  shall  go  on.  Whatever  it  is,  I  wish 
to  find  out." 

"But  Haddo?  Supposing  he  is  there,  waiting? 
Perhaps  you  are  only  walking  into  a  trap  that  he 
has  set  for  you." 

"I  am  convinced  that  Haddo  is  dead." 

Again  that  unintelligible  jargon,  unhuman  and 
shrill,  fell  upon  their  ears,  and  Arthur  stepped  for- 
ward. Susie  did  not  hesitate.  She  was  prepared 
to  follow  him  anywhere.  He  opened  the  door,  and 
there  was  a  sudden  quiet.  Whatever  made  those 
sounds  was  there.  It  was  a  larger  room  than  any 
of  the  others  and  much  higher,  for  it  ran  along  the 
whole  front  of  the  house.  The  powerful  lamps 
showed  every  corner  of  it  at  once,  but  above,  the 
beams  of  the  open  ceiling  were  dark  with  shadow. 
And  here  the  nauseous  odour,  which  had  struck 
them  before,  was  so  overpowering  that  for  a  while 
they  could  not  go  in.  It  was  indescribably  foul. 
Even  Arthur  thought  it  would  make  him  sick,  and  he 
looked  at  the  windows  to  see  if  it  was  possible  to 
open  them;  but  it  seemed  they  were  hermetically 
closed.  The  extreme  warmth  made  the  air  more 
overpowering.  There  were  four  furnaces  here 
and  they  were  all  alight.  In  order  to  give  out  more 
heat  and  to  burn  slowly,  the  fronts  of  them  were 
open,  and  one  could  see  that  they  were  filled  with 
glowing  coke. 


280  THE  MAGICIAN 

The  room  was  furnished  no  differently  from  the 
others,  but  to  the  various  instruments  for  chemical 
operations  on  a  large  scale  were  added  all  manner 
of  electrical  appliances.  Several  books  were  lying 
about,  and  one  had  been  left  open  face  downwards 
on  the  edge  of  a  table.  But  what  immediately  at- 
tracted their  attention  was  a  row  of  those  large 
glass  vessels  like  that  which  they  had  seen  in  the 
adjoining  room.  Each  was  covered  with  a  white 
cloth.  They  hesitated  a  moment,  for  they  knew 
that  here  they  were  face  to  face  with  the  great 
enigma.  At  last  Arthur  pulled  away  the  cloth 
from  one.  None  of  them  spoke.  They  stared  with 
astonished  eyes.  For  here,  too,  was  a  strange  mass 
of  flesh,  almost  as  large  as  a  new-born  child,  but 
there  was  in  it  the  beginnings  of  something  ghastly 
human.  It  was  shaped  vaguely  like  an  infant,  but 
the  legs  were  joined  together  so  that  it  looked  like 
a  mummy  rolled  up  in  its  coverings.  There  were 
neither  feet  nor  knees.  The  trunk  was  formless, 
but  there  was  a  curious  thickening  on  each  side; 
it  was  as  if  a  modeller  had  meant  to  make  a  figure 
with  the  arms  loosely  bent,  but  had  left  the  work 
unfinished  so  that  they  were  still  one  with  the  body. 
There  was  something  that  resembled  a  human  head, 
covered  with  long  golden  hair,  but  it  was  horrible; 
it  was  an  uncouth  mass,  without  eyes  or  nose  or 
mouth.  The  colour  was  a  kind  of  sickly  pink,  and 
it  was  almost  transparent.  There  was  a  very  slight 
movement  in  it,  rhythmical  and  slow.  It  was  living 
too. 

Then  quickly  Arthur  removed  the  covering  from 


THE  MAGICIAN  281 

all  the  other  jars  but  one;  and  in  a  flash  of  the  eyes 
they  saw  abominations  so  awful  that  Susie  had  to 
clench  her  fists  in  order  not  to  scream.  There  was 
one  monstrous  thing  in  which  the  limbs  approached 
nearly  to  the  human.  It  was  extraordinarily  heaped 
up,  with  fat  tiny  arms,  little  bloated  legs,  and  an 
absurd  squat  body,  so  that  it  looked  like  a  Chinese 
mandarin  in  porcelain.  In  another  the  trunk  was 
almost  like  that  of  a  human  child,  except  that  it  was 
patched  strangely  with  red  and  grey.  But  the 
terror  of  it  was  that  at  the  neck  it  branched  hide- 
ously, and  there  were  two  distinct  heads,  mon- 
strously large,  but  duly  provided  with  all  their 
features.  The  features  were  a  caricature  of  humanity 
so  shameful  that  one  could  hardly  bear  to  look. 
And  as  the  light  fell  on  it,  the  eyes  of  each  head 
opened  slowly.  They  had  no  pigment  in  them,  but 
were  pink  like  the  eyes  of  white  rabbits;  and  they 
stared  for  a  moment  with  an  odd,  unseeing  glance. 
Then  they  were  shut  again,  and  what  was  curiously 
terrifying  was  that  the  movements  were  not  quite 
simultaneous;  the  eyelids  of  one  head  fell  slowly 
just  before  those  of  the  other.  And  in  another 
place  was  a  ghastly  monster  in  which  it  seemed  that 
two  bodies  had  been  dreadfully  entangled  with  one 
another.  It  was  a  creature  of  nightmare,  with 
four  arms  and  four  legs,  and  this  one  actually 
moved.  With  a  peculiar  motion  it  crawled  along 
the  bottom  of  the  great  receptacle  in  which  it  was 
kept,  towards  the  three  persons  who  looked  at  it. 
It  seemed  to  wonder  what  they  did.  Susie  started 


282  THE  MAGICIAN 

back  with  fright,  as  it  raised  itself  on  its  four  legs 
and  tried  to  reach  up  to  them. 

Susie  turned  away  and  hid  her  face.  She  could 
not  look  at  those  ghastly  counterfeits  of  humanity. 
She  was  terrified  and  ashamed. 

"Do  you  understand  what  this  means ?"  said 
Dr.  Porhoet  to  Arthur,  in  an  awed  voice.  "It 
means  that  he  has  discovered  the  secret  of  life." 

"Was  it  for  these  vile  monstrosities  that  Mar- 
garet was  sacrificed  in  all  her  loveliness?" 

The  two  men  looked  at  one  another  with  sad, 
wondering  eyes. 

"Don't  you  remember  that  he  talked  of  the 
manufacture  of  human  beings?  It's  these  mis- 
shapen things  that  he's  succeeded  in  producing," 
said  the  doctor. 

"There  is  one  more  that  we  haven't  seen,"  said 
Arthur. 

He  pointed  to  the  covering  which  still  hid  the 
largest  of  the  vases.  He  had  a  feeling  that  it  con- 
tained the  most  fearful  of  all  these  monsters;  and  it 
was  not  without  an  effort  that  h£  drew  the  cloth 
away.  But  no  sooner  had  he  done  this  than  some- 
thing sprang  up,  so  that  instinctively  he  started 
back,  and  it  began  to  gibber  in  piercing  tones. 
These  were  the  unearthly  sounds  that  they  had 
heard.  It  was  not  a  voice,  it  was  a  kind  of  rau- 
cous crying,  hoarse  yet  shrill,  uneven  like  the  bark- 
ing of  a  dog,  and  appalling.  The  sounds  came 
forth  in  rapid  succession,  angrily,  as  though  the 
being  that  uttered  them  sought  to  express  itself  in 
furious  words.  It  was  mad  with  passion  and  beat 


THE  MAGICIAN  283 

against  the  glass  walls  of  its  prison  with  clenched 
fists.  For  the  hands  were  human  hands,  and  the 
body,  though  much  larger,  was  of  the  shape  of  a 
new-born  child.  The  creature  must  have  stood 
about  four  feet  high.  The  head  was  horribly  mis- 
shapen. The  skull  was  enormous,  smooth  and 
distended  like  that  of  a  hydrocephalic,  and  the  fore- 
head protruded  over  the  face  hideously.  The  fea- 
tures were  almost  unformed,  preternaturally  small 
under  the  great,  overhanging  brow;  and  they  had 
an  expression  of  fiendish  malignity.  The  tiny,  mis- 
shapen countenance  writhed  with  convulsive  fury, 
and  from  the  mouth  poured  out  a  foaming  spume. 
It  raised  its  voice  higher  and  higher,  shrieking 
senseless  gibberish  in  its  rage.  Then  it  began  to 
hurl  its  whole  body  madly  against  the  glass  walls 
and  to  beat  its  head.  It  appeared  to  have  a  sudden, 
incomprehensible  hatred  for  the  three  strangers. 
It  was  trying  to  fly  at  them.  The  toothless  gums 
moved  spasmodically,  and  it  threw  its  face  into 
horrible  grimaces.  That  nameless,  loathsome  abor- 
tion was  the  nearest  that  Oliver  Haddo  had  come  to 
the  human  form. 

"Come  away,"  said  Arthur.  "We  must  not 
look  at  this/' 

He  quickly  flung  the  covering  over  the  jar. 

"Yes,  for  God's  sake  let  us  go,"  said  Susie. 

"We  haven't  done  yet,"  answered  Arthur.  "We 
haven't  found  the  author  of  all  this." 

He  looked  at  the  room  in  which  they  were,  but 
there  was  no  door  except  that  by  which  they  had 


284  THE  MAGICIAN 

entered.      Then    he    uttered    a    startied    cry,    and 
stepping  forward  fell  on  his  knee. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  long  tables  heaped  up 
with  instruments,  hidden  so  that  at  first  they  had 
not  seen  him,  Oliver  Haddo  lay  on  the  floor,  dead. 
His  blue  eyes  were  staring  wide,  and  they  seemed 
larger  than  they  had  ever  been.  They  kept  still 
the  expression  of  terror  which  they  had  worn  in  the 
moment  of  his  agony,  and  his  heavy  face  was  dis- 
torted with  deadly  fear.  It  was  purple  and  dark, 
and  the  eyes  were  injected  with  blood. 

"He  died  of  suffocation/5  whispered  Dr.  Porhoet. 

Arthur  pointed  to  the  neck.  There  could  be  seen 
on  it  distinctly  the  marks  of  the  avenging  fingers 
that  had  strangled  the  life  out  of  him.  It  was  im- 
possible to  hesitate. 

"I  told  you  that  I  had  killed  him,"  said  Arthur. 

Then  he  remembered  something  more.  He  took 
hold  of  the  right  arm.  He  was  convinced  that  it 
had  been  broken  during  that  desperate  struggle  in 
the  darkness.  He  felt  it  carefully  and  listened. 
He  heard  plainly  the  two  parts  of  the'  bone  rub 
against  one  another.  The  dead  man's  arm  was 
broken  just  in  the  place  where  he  had  broken  it. 
Arthur  stood  up.  He  took  one  last  look  at  his 
enemy.  That  vast  mass  of  flesh  lay  heaped  up  on 
the  floor  in  horrible  disorder. 

"Now  that  you  have  seen,  will  you  come  away?" 
said  Susie,  interrupting  him. 

The  words  seemed  to  bring  him  suddenly  to  him- 
self. 

"Yes,  we  must  go  quickly." 


THE  MAGICIAN  285 

They  turned  away  and  with  hurried  steps  walked 
through  those  bright  attics  till  they  came  to  the 
stairs. 

"Now  go  down  and  wait  for  me  at  the  door,"  said 
Arthur.  "I  will  follow  you  immediately. " 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Susie. 

"Never  rnind.  Do  as  I  tell  you.  I  have  not 
finished  here  yet." 

They  went  down  the  great  oak  staircase  and  waited 
in  the  hall.  They  wondered  what  Arthur  was  about. 
Presently  he  came  running  down. 

"Be  quick!"  he  cried.  "We  have  no  time  to 
lose." 

"What  have  you  done,  Arthur?" 

"There's  no  time  to  tell  you  now." 

He  hurried  them  out  and  slammed  the  door  be- 
hind him.  He  took  Susie's  hand. 

"Now  we  must  run.     Come." 

She  did  not  know  what  his  great  haste  signified, 
but  her  heart  beat  furiously.  He  dragged  her  along. 
Dr.  Porhoet  hurried  on  behind  them.  Arthur 
plunged  into  the  wood.  He  would  not  leave  them 
time  to  breathe. 

"You  must  be  quick,"  he  said. 

At  last  they  came  to  the  opening  in  the  fence,  and 
he  helped  them  to  get  through.  Then  he  carefully 
replaced  the  wooden  paling,  and  taking  Susie's  arm, 
began  to  walk  rapidly  towards  their  inn. 

"I'm  frightfully  tired,"  she  said.  "I  simply  can't 
go  so  fast." 

"You  must.  Presently  you  can  rest  as  long  as 
you  like." 


286  THE  MAGICIAN 

They  walked  very  quickly  for  a  while.  Now  and 
then  Arthur  looked  back.  The  night  was  still  quite 
dark,  and  the  stars  shone  out  in  their  myriads.  At 
last  he  slackened  their  pace. 

"Now  you  can  go  more  slowly,"  he  said. 

Susie  saw  the  smiling  glance  that  he  gave  her. 
His  eyes  were  full  of  tenderness.  He  put  his  arm 
affectionately  round  her  shoulders  to  support  her. 

"I'm  afraid  you're  quite  exhausted,  poor  thing,'* 
he  said.  "I'm  sorry  to  have  had  to  hustle  you  so 
much." 

"It  doesn't  matter  at  all." 

She  leaned  against  him  comfortably.  With  that 
protecting  arm  about  her  she  felt  capable  of  any 
fatigue.  Dr.  Porhoet  stopped. 

"You  must  really  let  me  roll  myself  a  cigarette," 
he  said. 

"You  may  do  whatever  you  like,"  answered 
Arthur. 

There  was  a  different  ring  in  his  voice  now,  and 
it  was  soft  with  a  good  humour  that  they  had  not 
heard  in  it  for  many  months.  He  appeared  singu- 
larly relieved.  Susie  was  ready  to  forget  the  ter- 
rible past  and  give  herself  over  to  the  happiness 
that  seemed  at  last  in  store  for  her.  They  began 
to  saunter  slowly  on.  And  now  they  could  take 
pleasure  in  the  exquisite  night.  The  air  was  very 
suave,  odorous  with  the  heather  that  was  all  about 
them,  and  there  was  an  enchanting  peace  in  that 
scene  which  wonderfully  soothed  their  weariness. 
It  was  dark  still,  but  they  knew  the  dawn  was  at 
hand,  and  Susie  rejoiced  in  the  approaching  day. 


THE  MAGICIAN  287 

In  the  east  the  azure  of  the  night  began  to  thin 
away  into  pale  amethyst,  and  the  trees  seemed  grad- 
ually to  stand  out  from  the  darkness  in  a  ghostly 
beauty.  Suddenly  birds  began  to  sing  all  around 
them  in  a  splendid  chorus.  From  their  feet  a  lark 
sprang  up  with  a  rustle  of  wings,  and  mounting 
proudly  upon  the  air,  chanted  blithe  canticles  to 
greet  the  morning.  They  stood  upon  a  little  hill. 

"Let  us  wait  here  and  see  the  sun  rise,"  said 
Susie. 

"As  you  will." 

They  stood,  all  three  of  them,  and  Susie  took  in 
deep,  joyful  breaths  of  the  sweet  air  of  dawn.  The 
whole  land,  spread  at  her  feet,  was  clothed  in  the 
purple  dimness  that  heralds  day,  and  she  exulted  in 
its  beauty.  But  she  noticed  that  Arthur,  unlike  her- 
self and  Dr.  Porhoet,  did  not  look  toward  the  east. 
His  eyes  were  fixed  steadily  upon  the  place  from 
which  they  had  come.  What  did  he  look  for  in  the 
darkness  of  the  west  ?  She  turned  round,  and  a  cry 
broke  from  her  lips,  for  the  shadows  there  were  lurid 
with  a  deep  red  glow. 

"It  looks  like  a  fire,"  she  said. 

"It  is.     Skene  is  burning  like  tinder." 

And  as  he  spoke  it  seemed  that  the  roof  fell  in, 
for  suddenly  vast  flames  sprang  up,  rising  high  into 
the  still  night  air;  and  they  saw  that  the  house  they 
had  just  left  was  blazing  furiously.  It  was  a  mag- 
nificent sight  from  the  distant  hill  on  which  they 
stood  to  watch  the  fire  as  it  soared  and  sunk,  as  it 
shot  scarlet  tongues  along  like  strange  Titanic  mon- 
sters, as  it  raged  from  room  to  room.  Skene  was 


288  THE  MAGICIAN 

burning.  It  was  beyond  the  reach  of  human  help. 
In  a  little  while  there  would  be  no  trace  of  all  those 
crimes  and  all  those  horrors.  Now  it  was  one  mass 
of  flame.  It  looked  like  some  primeval  furnace, 
where  the  gods  might  work  unheard-of  miracles. 

"Arthur,  what  have  you  done?"  asked  Susie,  in 
a  tone  that  was  hardly  audible. 

He  did  not  answer  directly.  He  put  his  arm  about 
her  shoulder  again,  so  that  she  was  obliged  to  turn 
round. 

"Look,  the  sun  is  rising." 

In  the  east  a  long  ray  of  light  climbed  up  the  sky, 
and  the  sun,  yellow  and  round,  appeared  upon  the 
face  of  the  earth. 


THE   END 


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